


A sky of glass

by MyLadyDay



Series: Dragons, love and other oddities [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dragons, First Meetings, King!Marco, M/M, Older Characters, Referenced Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 09:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7752394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLadyDay/pseuds/MyLadyDay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was nothing to complain about, in reality. Marco could admit he’d had so much time with his father, all of it good, and there was no way it could have lasted forever. He wasn’t a child anymore, he’d faced the mortality of his parents long ago.</p><p>  <b>Wherein Marco became king and nothing could prepare him for where that led.<b></b></b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The funeral

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ImperialMint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperialMint/gifts), [lunarshores (damichan)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/damichan/gifts).



> So, a super late birthday fic for the lovely ladies. No better way to come back to writing MarcoAce.
> 
> Beta'd by Aerle

Marco couldn’t help but think how unfair it was, that this day, of them all, would be so beautiful. The sky was the bluest he’d ever seen, without a single cloud in sight, and the sun was shining down on the procession. A cold breeze rustled his hair and the robes he wore, reminding him that it was actually autumn. He could hear birds chirping merrily in the surrounding trees, as if it was a day like any other. 

He was at the front of the procession, treading with a heavy step before the coffin; the new king, sending off the old one into the afterlife. Difficult to imagine a harder duty as king than the first one Marco was tasked with, but he walked down the path towards the mausoleum of kings, thinking of the man in the coffin as a king, not a father. Mourning a father would come later, after they’d buried the ruler and he could let himself admit that his father was truly gone.

There was no one walking beside him, and Marco thanked his lucky stars that he was alone for the time being, where no one could offer fake sympathies to try and win the new king’s favor. It was the last thing he was in the mood for, nobles who cared about nothing but status and their own wealth. He was already anticipating numerous noble girls young enough to be his daughter being shoved at him, to take the place of queen. There hadn’t been a queen in over thirty years and many felt it was time that changed.

That, at least, wouldn’t be new. Marco wasn’t young anymore, and he was the only heir to the throne, marriage offers have been completely normal since he was born. They’d slowed back when he hit thirty and showed no sign of wanting to marry, but despite his age, he was technically the king now and it was only a matter of time before the nobles descended on him like vultures. Except vultures would be kinder, he couldn’t help but think. 

He slowed as he finally reached the end of the path, the procession coming to a halt behind him while Marco pulled out the massive brass key out of his royal robes to unlock the mausoleum. It was as old as their kingdom, the entrance carved out of marble near the palace’s protective walls, leading underground into a maze of tunnels where the king would be laid to rest.

This was the part Marco dreaded, the one where he was to lead the six knights of the king’s guard carrying the coffin into the mausoleum so they could put the king into his tomb. Marco knew this was where he had to say his goodbyes before taking his father’s crown from on top of his coffin, where it had been placed before the procession left the main temple. He was meant to walk out of the mausoleum a king, but what plagued him was knowing that he would never be able to fill his father’s shoes.

All too soon, Marco was alone with his father for the last time, staring numbly at the tomb with nothing but several torches to light the space. He had nothing to say, not that there was anything that could possibly make the sorrow go away this soon.

There was nothing to complain about, in reality. Marco could admit he’d had so much time with his father, all of it good, and there was no way it could have lasted forever. He wasn’t a child anymore, he’d faced the mortality of his parents long ago.

Standing in front of his father’s grave, though, made him come to terms with being utterly alone from that moment forward. The last of his family, now gone. It was a difficult truth to accept, but Marco knew he had to in order to move on and live without being trapped in the past. 

For this moment, however, he let himself linger and think of the times that have gone by, the so many good moments his father had given him during his life. The first memory to come to mind was of a winter’s night, decades ago, when Marco had been no more than seven or eight years old. He could still remember the sound of the fire crackling in the fireplace, the scent of hot chocolate steaming in a heavy porcelain cup on the bedside table and the strong arms of his father circled around him. Truly the safest place in the entire kingdom.

They were in the king’s bedroom, at the top of the palace, Marco having sneaked in there because he dreaded sleeping alone for fear his father might be dead once he woke up, disappearing as suddenly as his mother had only shortly before. It was a heavy burden for a child that young, and Marco knew it marked him for many years that followed.

That night was the first time he’d heard the story, spoken in his father’s deep, soothing rumble of a voice. Even to this day, Marco remembered it more clearly than almost anything else, reciting it to himself when he found himself frightened or in need of reassurance, as it reminded him of the peace he’d felt that first time it was told to him. 

It was his father’s voice this time as well, repeating the entire story in his head as he stood in front of the tomb, alone and perhaps the loneliest he’d ever been with the long passed memory still vivid in his mind’s eye.

Many years ago in a kingdom far away, there was a princess. She was young and beautiful, with her long golden hair and eyes the color of daylight. Her face, though, shone like the night sky, with freckles the color of the sun covering her skin. She was from the north, where people were born with magic in them that burned bright and warm and manifested itself in the most beautiful of ways, different for every single person that was blessed. 

Marco always tried to imagine it, freckles the color of gold and warm to the touch, like embers of a dying fire. It always made his father laugh, the way he tried so hard to picture it and never quite succeeded, resulting in a ridiculous image of someone sparkling as if made of diamonds. 

The princess had the power to heal, according to his father, and she used it freely, helping anyone that needed help, which made everyone love her dearly. She was so popular with the people that word travelled south, until it reached the neighboring kingdom and its crown prince. He was so impressed by what he’d heard that he set out immediately with a marriage proposal, intent on bringing her to his home kingdom.

It wasn’t long before the proposal was accepted, after short negotiations, and the princess started the journey from her home kingdom to that of her future husband. The journey was a long one and it was decided that the princess would travel without ceremony or a big entourage to keep her as safe as possible. No one but the people in her party knew about it.

The journey went slowly, but after a long two months on the road, the princess made it to the last part. She and her small party were in the forest nearest to their goal, the capital of the prince’s kingdom, following a long straight path towards the city when bandits attacked the carriage. It was only the one carriage with the princess and several guards with her, her ladies having gone ahead with their luggage. 

The guards were killed swiftly before she even had time to look out the carriage window, but she was dragged out soon after and found herself surrounded by half a dozen men armed to the teeth. They spoke of vile things they wished to do before killing her as well and taking all of her valuables, but before they could do anything, one of their own attacked and overpowered the other five of his companions, but not before being stabbed several times. 

He was young, younger than the others, closer to the princess’ age than that of the other bandits, and looked at her with more kindness in his eyes than she’d expected from thieves, so she healed him with her magic. It wasn’t too late to save him, but her guards were already dead by this point, and she could do nothing to save them. Soon after, the bandit offered to take her to the capital and keep her safe on the journey, as a thanks for the princess healing his wounds that would no doubt kill him given time. 

True to his word, the bandit led the princess to the city, leaving her only once they were near the palace walls and she could ride the rest of the way without fear of being attacked. She arrived at the palace without a single hair out of place and everyone was overjoyed, but the princess never spoke of how it was that she got away from the bandits.

She and the prince married soon after and the whole kingdom rejoiced. 

It wasn’t long after that a war broke out and the prince and his brother rode out to war. But only the prince’s brother returned, stricken and full of sorrow at the loss of his brother. The princess was widowed, still so young with her whole life ahead of her. 

So she decided to stay in the kingdom of her late husband, so his brother wouldn’t be lonely and she could help those wounded in war. The people grew to love her even more than they had before, even if she wouldn’t be their queen one day as was expected. 

It was in one of the tents on the border of the battlefield that she came across the very same bandit that had saved her. He was hanging on by a thread, badly wounded and barely alive by the time she had gotten to him. 

Even her magic wasn’t strong enough to heal him immediately so she had to return every day, healing him little by little until he was healed completely. They had spent so much time together while she healed him and in the process, they’d fallen in love. 

While the war lasted, the princess stayed near the battlefield to tend to the wounded and the bandit stayed to be near the princess. In a way, being together was easier before the war ended, and the princess returned to the capital, the bandit following close behind. She was under a heavier guard once back in the palace, but they managed to stay together, the princess sneaking out of the palace to meet him every so often.

They knew it was only a matter of time before someone caught them and found out, but they both felt it was worth the risk.

Their fear was realized later than they’d expected, but it happened anyway, and the bandit was arrested for treason because the princess was the crown prince’s widow. She was taken back to the palace and locked into her quarters on house arrest while he was taken to the dungeons deep under the city, waiting for his execution. No one could help them as the laws were clear and the king turned on her for betraying his son, hearing no reason that she could still live a life marked with more than just sorrow. 

In the days leading to the bandit’s execution, the princess found she was with child. She was able to keep it hidden with the help of her lady in waiting, the only person allowed to go into her chambers and see her. The bandit was executed, though, without her being able to see him beforehand, but she managed to keep her secret until the very end. 

The princess died in childbirth, seven months after the bandit was executed. 

Marco could still remember, hearing the last part of the story for the first time when he’d been older, old enough to understand death at least. He’d never found out what happened to the child, though, and it filled Marco with sadness to realize he no longer had a chance to ask about it. He’d never even asked who they were, the princess and the bandit. Taking a deep breath, Marco reached out and lifted the crown off the coffin. 

“Farewell, father,” Marco said sadly before placing the crown on his head and feeling it’s immense weight immediately. 

With that, Marco left the small tomb, locking the doors behind himself before making his way out. The space in front of the mausoleum was empty, the procession having left after he descended into the tomb with the coffin. The guards were supposed to wait for him, but these were men he knew almost his whole life and they would have known he needed space and to be alone. They also knew he was more than capable of protecting himself, had there been anyone stupid enough to attack within the palace walls. 

Marco locked the mausoleum doors, putting the heavy key away into his pocket, before he turned back to the palace. It was far from the first time he’d found himself awed by it, knowing it was unique in the world. From where he stood, Marco could see the entire front side of the tall cliff and the royal palace carved into it. The palace side of the cliff was polished until it shone in the sun, while the back faced the open sea and remained impossible to climb so the palace and the entire capitol stayed unbreachable from sea. 

The palace was formed in layers, the levels like a terrace upon terrace, starting from the ground where the front gates stood far from the body of the cliff, up to the highest floor that was carved into the cliff itself. The highest point held the king’s quarters, as the part of the palace which would be the easiest to defend, high up and surrounded by solid stone from three sides. 

As usual, Marco’s gaze was drawn to the top of the cliff and the sun reflecting off the glass dome situated there. He’d always wondered about the garden, accessible only through the king’s quarters. No one was allowed to go up there, except for the king, and Marco knew his father had made good use of the privacy and solitude it allowed him. As soon as he thought it, Marco wanted nothing more than to go up there and see this place his father spent so much time in. 

He would no doubt be closer to him there than in the cold dark tomb. Per tradition, Marco was meant to put the key into the treasury where it would be taken only by the next king upon Marco’s death, so there was no chance of him visiting his father’s grave anyway. 

But the garden was a safe haven, probably for all the kings who came before his father. Marco had no idea who took care of it, if only the king had access, and he’d never thought to ask before. There were so many questions Marco had never asked, will never get the chance to ask anymore and that has never been more obvious to him than in that moment. 

Putting that, and every other regret he was suddenly feeling, out of mind, Marco made his way towards the palace, intent on avoiding anyone that might demand anything of him. It wasn’t common to hold audiences on the day of the king’s funeral, but Marco wouldn’t put it past the pushy nobles with their own personal agendas. 

No one approached him as he entered the palace through the open main gates. He held his head high, walking with the confidence that came with the crown on his head. Everyone bowed without a word as he walked, but Marco didn’t slow on his way deeper into the palace where the ornate brass elevator was, leading straight to the king’s quarters. Usually he’d marvel at the technology, even with being used to it, but his mind kept quiet this time. 

He’d only worn the crown for mere moments and yet Marco couldn’t wait to finally take it off and feel like himself again. It was a bad start for his rule, surely, to think of the crown as a burden, but maybe it could be forgiven for just this one day until he found his peace again. 

Stepping into his new apartments was an odd experience, knowing this was where his father had lived until so very recently and now he was meant to live there. He would get used to it, of course. After all, he’d been prepared for this day almost since he had been born, becoming the king his only goal. The perils of an only child born to a king, he supposed. 

No matter how odd stepping into his new rooms was, Marco couldn’t suppress a sigh of relief at the privacy. The robe was off in a matter of moments, draped over the nearest chair with less care than was probably advisable. With the crown, though, Marco took his time, removing it carefully and placing it on the velvet pillow deeper in the parlor. 

The pillow was ridiculous, honestly, and had been a private joke between him and his father for a long while. It did serve its purpose, though, and the crown was left there until the next time he’d need to wear it. 

Marco could admit that the robe had a purpose in hiding the comfortable clothes he’d worn underneath, to try and preserve at least a sense of what he was used to. Thick soft sweaters, even if black, weren’t considered appropriate attire for a king’s funeral, but no one had to know what he wore anyway. 

He didn’t let himself focus on anything else at the moment, only making his way towards the wooden door of the stairs that led up into the garden. Marco may not have gone up there before, but it was the only door he’d never used so it wasn’t hard to conclude where it went. There was no helping the slight nervousness he felt as he walked through the door, feeling as if he was doing something forbidden.

The feeling was soon replaced with pure awe as he climbed the stairs and got a first look at the area inside the glass. It was far bigger than he’d ever imagined, all the trees and foliage blocking his view of where the glass met the cliffside on the other side. The air around him was warm, pleasantly so unlike outside where the sun shone, but the air had the bite of autumn in it. Here, he was warm and almost oddly carefree with no one in sight. 

He could see, without a shadow of a doubt, why his father enjoyed spending time up there. Completely mesmerized, Marco walked further into the garden, nearing the shade of trees taller than one could imagine in a greenhouse. The leaves were rustling with a small breeze, and Marco could tell some of the glass panes were open to let the cold air in, because this truly was a huge glasshouse and with as many trees and plants as there were, the heat would be unbearable. 

Turning back to the way he came in, Marco noticed the stairwell was a small cave when looked at from where he stood. His curiosity about the place only grew, and Marco was once again saddened that he wouldn’t be able to ask his father. A thought about going through the archives and the king’s personal library passed through his mind briefly, but a louder rustle of leaves distracted him.

Marco turned again, just in time to see a sky colored dragon with the greenest eyes, the size of a lion, stalk towards him carefully before it let out a high pitched screech. He’d only ever seen drawings of dragons before, in travel journals about far away places. Now he was faced with one and the one turned into three as two more appeared from between the trees, a fiery red one with eyes of snow and another that was completely black with two eyes the color of sulphur. 

They were stunning and absolutely beautiful, but terrifying all the same as they observed him like a prey. It didn’t take a genius to know he wouldn’t escape them, even if he tried. Coming up there suddenly seemed like an enormous mistake and it was too late to do anything about it. 

A sharp whistle startled him, but drew the attention of the dragons as well, and Marco felt a short bout of relief before the realization dawned on him that there was something more dangerous up there as well, if the dragons backed away. The realization that his father had kept secrets from him was a harsh one, but not really a surprise. And not the biggest problem he had at the moment. 

“What are you three doing?” a voice said, drawing closer to them, and the dragons turned towards it, going from dangerous to calm and curious in a heartbeat. 

Marco waited with trepidation, but there was anger as well because no one was allowed inside and yet someone managed to get all the way up there unnoticed. There was no reasonable explanation for another person being there, but then again, the dragons were a surprise as well. 

The man that walked out into the clearing near the entrance was not what Marco had been expecting. He didn’t look to be much younger than Marco himself was, five years or so the most, tall with dark hair and piercing dark eyes, a severe frown appearing on his face as soon as he laid eyes on Marco. He crossed his arms then too, and Marco absentmindedly noticed the prominent scars on his forearms, claw marks mostly and what looked like a bite mark, but Marco was hardly paying attention to that.

His skin was covered with freckles, a muted gold against the darker hue of his skin, and Marco could see them catch the sunlight and reflect it, making him lose focus on the fact there was a man with three dragons in his father’s garden.

“Who the hell are you?” the man asked, looking almost as angry as Marco was, and Marco snapped out of his daze enough to remember that he was actually angry.

“Who the hell are  _ you _ ?” Marco repeated, standing straight and drawing every ounce of the regal demeanor he had in him to face down a man with dragons under his control. “No one but the king is allowed here.”

“So why are you here?” the man asked, looking as unimpressed as a person could possibly be. 

“I am the king,” Marco said, voice hard and commanding, as if he hadn’t said this for the first time. He hadn’t even come to terms with it just yet. “And who are you?”

For the first time since they came face to face, the man visibly faltered, the frown on his face loosening, replaced with wide eyes and disbelief, shifting to a pleading sadness faster than Marco could understand why the change would even happen.

“Does that mean Edward is,” he started, faltering for a moment as he said the name before visibly steeling himself to continue, “dead?”

He sounded lost, somehow, and Marco felt his shoulders drop, unable and unwilling to keep up the strong front. 

“Yes,” Marco replied simply, maybe too quiet for the space between them, but his reply seemed to come across well enough. “You still haven’t said who you are and what the hell you’re doing here.” His voice grew in volume now that the subject was changed to something that didn’t feel like a gaping wound in the middle of his chest.

“I’m Ace,” he said, his face going back to the frowning expression, severe, but much milder this time around. “And I’ve lived here all my life.”


	2. The beginning of a reign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whoever figures out what marco's prophecy means gets a drabble from me :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was sure I mentioned this before, but Ace is 33 and Marco is 38.  
> Bea and Steph named the dragons: the blue one is Jay, the red one is Pyrrho and the black one is Corax.  
> Marco is crowned as Marco II because he was named after an ancestor who was obv Marco I.

The throne room was far more frigid and unwelcoming than it had a right to be, even with the fire crackling in the fireplace and the warm light fluttering over rich tapestries that warmed the cold stone walls at least a little. Marco knew the atmosphere had nothing to do with the temperature of the room, really, but more with the people within it that came to watch him officially become their ruler. He could feel the cold calculating stares from the crowd gathered before him, thoughts barely hidden underneath masks of polite fake smiles. Marco couldn't remember the last time he'd seen this much barely contained competitiveness in one room. Surely, if he strained to listen, he could hear the scheming whispers and ambitious plans to get into his good graces. That was hardly an unusual thing at court, though.

Even so, the view from the throne was a spectacular one; he could see every majestic detail of the room before him, from the fan vault high above them to the tall stained glass windows that lined the long eastern wall. The throne room always left Marco in awe, even after all the years he'd spent in the palace, and he'd much rather focus on the architecture than the hunger in all those countless eyes staring at him. That hunger only deepened as soon the scepter was placed in his hands and the ancient ceremonial crown was lowered onto his head by the high priest's less than steady hands.

The crown was an incredibly heavy thing, made of tempered silver and sun stones, usually kept in the darkest depths of the royal treasury, reserved only for coronations and rare ceremonies. He didn't need to wear it long to consider himself lucky it wasn't a crown he'd have to wear daily. There was no telling why anyone would actually want the damn thing.

Marco tuned out the words chanted around him, the blessings for him and his rule, instead keeping his face as stoic as possible while he gazed calmly out at the crowd. Even as used to it as he was, Marco couldn't help but notice how draining the whole ordeal ended up being, having to be surrounded by so much insincerity and thinly veiled greed. It bothered him that he had to put on a mask when faced with these people, handling it with his own insincerity rather than putting an end to the way everyone wanted to own him for their own gain, but his own coronation was hardly the time or the place for that.

There wasn't much keeping him sane at the moment, save for the fact that most of these people traveled from all over the kingdom for the funeral and the coronation that was closely followed by the forming of the new council. Soon, there would be nothing keeping them in court and the majority of them would return to their estates and go back to being a vague pain in his neck somewhere out of sight. Until the council was formed, though, there was no telling how far some of the nobles were willing to go to get a seat around his table and that was a whole other ordeal he didn't want to think about just yet.

At the moment, though, Marco tried his best to show no emotion as the ceremony continued, the priest burning a bundle of sage in blessing as he brought his words to an end. Silence rang around them, only the crackle of burning sage offering a comfort of sorts.

"All hail king Marco II, crowned The Phoenix," the priest said, his voice ringing out through the room with Marco's new title for everyone to hear. That was an odd moment for him to realize that he had no idea who chose the title each king or queen got at their coronation, but somehow it always fit the person at some point.

"Long live the king!" the priest said, his monotone voice echoing around them, snapping Marco out of his distracting thoughts before the crowd repeated the words. Once, then twice, sounding sincere and cheerful. He couldn't say whether that was because of him or just because his father no longer stood in their way towards power.

The five knights standing  at the bottom of the steps in front of him, though, were the loudest with sincere grins on their faces as they knelt before him. With the coronation came the changing of the king's personal guard as well, his father's knights finally relieved of duty after so many years and in their place stood men Marco grew up with. In the sea of people looking up at him in that moment, he knew he could surely trust only the five of them that knelt before him. They'd been his friends for so many years, he couldn't think of sitting on that throne without any of them by his side.

Their swords were drawn in a fluid motion, the five of them moving as one as they pressed the hilts against their hearts and swore to stay by his side until death. As soon as they finished speaking, the high priest took the heavy scepter out of Marco's hand before a younger priest appeared by Marco's side, with a heavy rosewood box in his hands.

Marco couldn't help but be relieved that he could finally stand up because that meant the ceremony was almost finished. He was far from the impatient child he'd once been, but he still couldn't wait for all of it to be over; the ceremony and the feast that was to follow where he would actually have to talk to people and try to figure out which of them could be trusted.

Instead of thinking about that unpleasantness, though, Marco closed the distance between himself and Izou, who knelt at the far left. Marco took the first heavy silver pin out of the box, the one shaped like a phoenix feather decorated with slivers of jade, before fastening it to the tunic above Izou's heart. The one with the jade was different than the others, meant to distinguish the person wearing it as the captain of the king's guard.

Marco noted how taken aback Izou seemed by his decision, but said nothing on the matter, deciding to bow his head before Marco stepped away towards Jozu, who knelt next in line, to pin a simple silver phoenix feather to his tunic. He repeated the action with Vista, Atmos and Bay, until they were all officially named his knights and the priest spoke a prayer behind Marco that signaled the end of the ceremony.

Most of the other changes to the household were already done, requiring little to no ceremony at all and Marco couldn't help but be glad because of it. The coronation itself was longer than he thought he could sit still through as it was while the council business happened in private. All he had to do was pick eight nobles from different houses and hope for a mild reaction from those who weren't chosen.

With that in mind, Marco was more than happy to lead his newly appointed guard to the back of the room, through the doors behind the throne itself and into the spacious parlor reserved for private audiences with the king. As soon as the doors were closed behind the six of them, Marco felt himself breathe a sigh of relief and lifted the crown off his head. Izou snorted behind him as soon as the heavy silver clinked against the wooden desk.

"It's a bit early to be tired of the thing already, don't you think?" he asked teasingly, the rest of them snickering as well even though they all knew Marco had been tired of the crown long before it was his to wear. It was easier to laugh it off anyway, rather than pity himself over something he couldn't possibly change.

"That  _ thing _ ," Marco said as he turned towards them, "is more uncomfortable than wearing full armor on a summer day."

He was met with five grimaces of various intensities and Izou raising a single unimpressed eyebrow. They'd all done their fair share of wearing full armor all year round during training and out on quests while traveling the kingdom, so imagining anything worse than almost boiling alive in a suit made of metal was a bit difficult.

"If you say so, Your Majesty," Izou said, face and voice completely serious, making Marco narrow his eyes at him. He'd learned how to read Izou years ago and the seriousness never meant anything good.

"Do you see what kind of sass you get for naming him captain?" Bay piped up from where she stood by the door.

"Are you suggesting you'd be less insufferable?" Vista asked with a snort.

"You're saying that as if Izou ever is anything but insufferable," Marco said before Bay could reply, chuckling at the exaggeratedly scandalized protest from Izou.

"You lot are forgetting that I'm your commanding officer now," Izou said to the other four, the amusement in his voice at odds with the words he'd spoken. "I could have you doing laps around the city if you piss me off."

"Who's going to protect me if you do that?" Marco asked, feigning being scared, but knowing he wasn't pulling it off if the snorts around him were anything to go by.

"Shouldn't we be going out there for the feast?" Vista asked once the amusement tapered off, nodding towards the door in the back of the room, that lead to a passageway connected with the massive dining hall set up for the celebrations.

"He can do what he wants now," Bay said, looking at Marco with a grin. "He's the boss."

"Is that your way of saying you don't want to go out there and eat?" Marco asked her with obvious amusement, even though he wasn't too thrilled about joining all those people again. This time, he knew, he'd actually have to talk to them and with the most pressing business of the council, Marco could tell he was in for a night of unnecessary flattering and offers meant to buy his favor.

"Definitely not," she said. "Your new head chef cooked for us yesterday and I'm not missing out on that ever again, but you can still decide not to go out there amongst the vultures," she said, the teasing replaced by a serious expression and Marco immediately felt anger rise in his throat.

"I'm not a child, Bay," he said, staying calm instead of lashing out, but he couldn't help the sharpness in his voice. "I can handle them tonight and the foreseeable future because I am not going to hide from my duties."

He was met with grim expressions that told him that the other four felt the same as Bay and it only made Marco more angry. Being king was something he was prepared for since he'd been born and it was a duty he wasn't ready to abandon, no matter how much happier he'd be had he been born as anyone else. He had thought they would have forgotten his old fears about ruling after his father.

"And you're all going to have to be there with me every time," he added, "so someone doesn't stab me in the back."

"You could try and be a bit less morbid about the situation," Izou said with a grimace. "You sound like that oracle we met in the Northern Peaks."

"The frighteningly beautiful one that gave us all incredibly morbid premonitions?" Atmos asked, speaking for the first time since they'd entered the room.

"Mine came true," Vista said before looking at the ground. "Though getting stabbed from behind by the kingdom's greatest swordsman on Midsummer's Eve really didn't mean what I thought it would."

Marco laughed out loud, both because he immediately understood what Vista meant and because he thought back to when they'd wandered into that inconspicuous cave, looking for shelter from the snowstorm high up in the mountains and instead found an abandoned dwarven city sprawled through the entirety of the mountain. The oracle lived at the heart of the city, surrounded by riches of all sorts and piles upon piles of books scattered everywhere. Marco was sure there was something else there, living with her and hiding in the shadows, but he knew better than to ask.

Of course, she'd known they were coming. It was extremely difficult to surprise someone who can see into the future, after all. They were extremely lucky, too. Oracles were rare and more often than not, refused to share the things they'd seen of the future.

What she had told Marco, though, was an odd thing, not as morbid as the others made it sound. She'd said that he would capture fire amidst the deepest darkness and protect it under a sky of glass, where his heart lay.

He hadn't thought of that in years after trying and failing to figure out what it meant. After all, the prophecy he was given was something odd and seemed somehow small in comparison to what prophecies from legends were. There was no mention of saving the world or even his kingdom, no epic battle to be had and, in his youth, Marco had no idea what to make of her words because of it. She hadn't mentioned greatness in his future and, at the time, nothing else was as important.

At this point, he could have admitted willingly that he'd been an insufferable brat throughout his teens and well into his twenties, until he'd actually seen war firsthand. That sure as hell made him and the men around him pull their heads out of their asses and see what was truly important. Bay, of course, had always been the levelheaded one.

"You're thinking about what she told you, aren't you?" Izou asked, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his eyebrow raised. Marco noticed immediately that they were all looking at him expectantly, probably due to the fact he'd apparently zoned out for who knew how long.

"I almost forgot about it, honestly," Marco said without elaborating further. He'd only shared the oracle's words with Izou, but they couldn't figure out the meaning. It only made Marco feel marginally better to know that Izou's own premonition was as confusing and nonsensical as Marco's, though to be fair, they were both idiots back then.

"But enough of that, we should be going now," he said just as Bay looked ready to speak again, maybe change the subject to delay them further. She may have been levelheaded, but she also had slight problems with authority which was probably caused by the fact she'd seen the crown prince, the second highest authority in the kingdom until now, getting his ass handed to him by a forest troll one too many times.

"You're the king, I doubt anyone is about to complain that you're late," she said instead, but started moving from the door they came in through and towards the opposite side of the room. "And we're allowed to be late because we're with you now. We're your people," she added with a grin and a small casual salute Marco's way, eliciting a wave of chuckles from the others.

"I certainly chose well, didn't I?" Marco asked with a snort.

"That sounds too sarcastic for my taste," Vista said, but moved into formation anyway, taking his spot at the door next to Bay.

Protocol dictated that the captain of the guard moved first, followed by two knights of his choosing. The king was next with the last two knights at the rear, guarding his back. An attack in the heart of the palace wasn't very likely, but they all had roles to play, at least for that one night while they still had such a big audience that observed their every move.

Izou looked at him, holding his gaze until Marco picked up the crown from the desk and set it back onto his head. He nodded then, giving Izou the permission to open the door and lead the way. To Marco, it felt more like walking to his execution that a feast in his honor which was ridiculous and he damn well knew it, but it wasn't a feeling he could shake easily. It was easy to see there was a long night ahead of him.

* * *

It was well after midnight by the time Marco climbed the stairs up to his chambers. He left his guards on the floor below, where their new quarters were, and ascended the stairs by himself to relish in the peace and quiet he was denied for the entire day. Of course, he'd been to gatherings like this before and he'd been surrounded by this many people, but it was still exhausting. Especially with that god awful crown weighing him down the entire night. His neck hurt like hell from having to keep his head up the entire time.

Compared to this one, the crown he was meant to wear daily suddenly seemed much more comfortable, which was something Marco never thought he'd say. The happiest he'd been all day was when he'd finally taken the crown off and let Izou return it to the treasury then lock it away for the foreseeable future.

Still, as exhausting as the day had been, Marco felt far too wound up to actually sleep. Mostly for fear that he'd dream of no less than four different marriage proposals he'd gotten during the celebration. Three were of the subtle variety, more of a political proposal than that for a regular marriage, which might have alarmed him less had the girls in question not been young enough to be his daughters. The fourth one, at least, was old enough to not be considered a child, but still far too young for him and not even a tiny bit willing to actually marry him.

Things weren't so simple, though, he knew that. It wasn't only a matter of their age that made him refuse any negotiations of possible marriages. The last thing Marco wanted or needed was to ally himself with a noble house that was looking for a way to get him off the throne so one of their own could take over. If nothing else, the evening managed to open his eyes about the situation in court between the families that had a seat in the council until then.

The nobles from the borderlands were only interested in getting closer to the heart of the kingdom while the nobles from the provinces around the capitol wanted more power. The emissaries from the neighboring kingdoms were looking to negotiate trading agreements with the new king before he realized that most of those agreements were declined by his father.

Most of all, the majority of them were under the impression that Marco was, for lack of a better word, a complete imbecile. He hadn't exactly done much to change their minds, knowing someone was bound to slip up if he was so widely underestimated, but pretending he hadn't heard the rumors was entirely too tiring.

His friends knew him well enough to know he wasn't a soldier with a hero complex and no knowledge of politics, like the majority of his court seemed to believe, but not many people seemed to figure it out as the night went on. Everyone was relaxed around him due to this belief which, at least, allowed Izou and the others to observe everyone and listen to careless whispers around the room. Sometimes, Marco was astound by the fact how little attention was paid to the king's guard inside the palace walls.

People acted as if they weren't even there, speaking probably too freely without noticing someone was listening. On the one hand, Marco now had a fairly good idea whom he'd like to have in his council. On the other, though, Izou had heard far too many things that bordered on treason and that was already a headache he wasn't ready to deal with just yet.

At the moment, Marco was only focused on getting out of the heavy ceremonial cloak he'd worn since the coronation, which seemed so long ago to him already despite it only being several hours. He hadn't even thought of sleep, though, not when his rooms felt stifling like the rest of the palace, knowing how many people were currently residing under the same roof, even if there was no one near him.

Marco was finally alone for the first time since early in the morning and yet he still couldn't relax fully. His thoughts drifted to the garden and the dragons and the stranger still living just outside Marco's chambers. He'd done his best not to think about any of it for two weeks since the day he'd gone up into the dome and met Ace, considering he'd had enough on his mind as is, but once he thought of the fact he was technically sharing his space with someone, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

And yet he hadn't told anyone. Not even Izou and he usually told him everything.  

This may have been stupid of him; for all he knew, Ace was dangerous. His dragons certainly were. Marco hadn't felt threatened, not really, but he did start locking the door leading up to the garden. It was more about the secret his father had kept from him for so many years than about anything else and Marco avoided going up there while he tried to wrap his head around the idea of someone living in his garden.

At the moment, though, Marco wanted nothing more than to go up there and breathe. It was probably the only place in the entire palace where he could let go and forget the responsibilities he had for a few hours. 

The decision was already made, somewhere in the back of his mind, even if he didn't want to admit that he was so incredibly curious. It wasn't out of curiosity, though, that he picked up a pillow and a soft blanket, right after he changed into more comfortable clothes, before making his way through that heavy door and up the stairs. 

Relief flooded him as soon as his feet touched  the grass and the scent of flowers unlike any he could find down on the ground around the palace filled the air. The air was different there than within the walls of the palace, enough so that he felt miles away from the problems and weights of his duties and the people still scheming on the floors beneath him.

A glance upwards revealed the night sky, countless stars shining down on his through the clear glass and Marco could do nothing but sigh in relief at the decision he'd made. The exhaustion of the day was catching up with him fast, now that he was surrounded by silence and the sweet scent of flowers with the stars shining down on him.

The air was pleasantly warm, like late spring instead of gloomy autumn that he was faced with outside and he could do nothing but walk a short distance from the stairs until he found a small clearing covered in grass, big enough for him to lie down and have the perfect view of the sky above. He couldn't remember the last time he slept under the stars, completely carefree with nothing on his mind but what his next adventure will be. Knowing he had no appointments the next day until well in the afternoon gave him some comfort at least.

This was different, of course, from the other nights he’d spent outside, what with the glass between him and the stars and the fact he couldn't hear Izou and Atmos snoring next to him, but he finally relaxed all the same, with his head sinking into the pillow he'd brought along. For a moment, he was regretting lying on the blanket because it prevented him from feeling how soft the grass was, but the thought was gone in a flash and he drifted off, the rustle of leaves lulling him into a sleep more peaceful than he'd had since his father died.

* * *

The low, soothing sounds of a forest waking for the day were unexpected, making Marco think he hadn't actually woken up just yet, instead dreaming of sleeping under the stars and waking far from the palace and his responsibilities. For a moment, Marco was completely content to just lie there with his eyes closed and soak up the peace and quiet. 

A loud screech sounding right next to his face, though, forced him to open his eyes and try to get away only to get tangled in the blanket and fall back to the ground with a painful thud. If he’d been lying on a bed, Marco knew he’d have fallen out of it and probably broken his face in the process. As it was, he found himself on the grassy ground of his garden, legs tangled in the surprisingly sturdy blanket, surrounded by the three dragons he’d seen the last time he went up there. The one closest to him, the black one with the yellow eyes, must have made the sound that startled him, but it didn’t really matter at this point.

Marco was face to face with a dragon, observing it with as much curiosity as it was observing him. The only difference was the fact that Marco was probably far more afraid that the dragon was, especially knowing there were two more within touching distance that he couldn’t even see with the black dragon this close to him. There was no way of knowing how long ago they’d discovered him or whether or not they were about to maul him. 

He honestly hoped not, but it wasn’t exactly up to him so he could do nothing but sit as still as possible and wait for Ace to appear like last time and call them off. 

For a brief moment, Marco wondered whether Ace was training dragons to fight, but the thought was gone as quickly as it had appeared. His father wouldn’t have allowed that, especially considering he’d worked hard for the peace they were enjoying now. Just thinking about that made Marco’s head hurt a bit, remembering they’d received reports of several small attacks from in the Desert Border as soon as his father died. That was the reason he needed to form the council as soon as possible, in case those separate attacks were a part of something bigger. 

With that train of thought, Marco had almost forgotten about the dragons surrounding him and felt the weight that came with the crown drop onto his shoulders yet again. They weren’t ready for a war, especially not this soon into his rule when he had yet to form a council and take command of the army. There was little comfort in knowing that at least the troops knew and respected him as one of their own, and would follow him without question if it came to that. 

The dragon in front of him screeched softly, drawing Marco’s attention back to the situation at hand, which was far more dire at the moment than the possibility of war, but there was something reassuring about the fact he’d zoned out and wasn’t mauled while his attention was elsewhere. He could hear sounds coming from the other two dragons as well, but didn’t dare turn around and take his eyes off the one in front of him. 

Which was why he was unprepared for one of them nudging the back of his head with a surprisingly cold beak before the third appeared by his side and sat down. All three flocked around him, relaxing after a moment and settling in a way that was surprisingly comfortable for him. They were warmer and softer than he’d expected, reminding him of giant cats instead of dangerous predators. Though, he supposed, big cats were dangerous predators as well. 

With a rush of courage, Marco lifted a hand before reaching out slowly towards the black dragon’s head, hoping to stroke along the feathers there, but still slightly afraid he might lose an arm in the process. This close, Marco noticed how their appearance was more similar to birds than lizards, like most dragons had been depicted in books he’d read, and that intrigued him more than he’d realized last time. He was itching to learn more about them, hoping he would get a chance to dig through the library or perhaps ask Ace about them. 

Those yellow eyes were on him the entire time, watching intently as Marco’s hand drew closer, falling shut only when his fingers traced over oddly soft feathers. Before he could try touching one of the others, though, the dragon lifted its head, looking up towards the trees to the side as if waiting for something. 

Not a moment later, Ace strolled into the clearing and two of the three dragons rose from the ground to run towards him. Ace didn’t look nearly as surprised as Marco thought he should be at the fact the black dragon stayed right there, half in Marco’s lap. 

“Making friends, I see,” Ace said, not quite smiling, but looking more welcoming than the last time they’d met. He’d probably be friendlier had Marco not run away last time, without so much as a word. 

He was slightly ashamed of that now, when thinking back to it, but at the time, he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact his father had kept such a secret for so long. 

“I’m not sure I’d call us friends just yet,” he replied, unsure where this was going. “Do they have names?” he asked, surprising both himself and Ace. That made him feel just a tiny bit smug, if he was being honest with himself. 

“Of course,” Ace said, letting his hands fall to his sides from where they’d been crossed before his chest, the tips of his fingers immediately stroking the feathers of the blue dragon that ambled as close as possible. “This is Jay,” he said, glancing down to his side, at the blue feathers he was touching, “that is Pyrrho,” he said, nodding towards the bright red one before finally looking at the one nestled next to Marco, “and that is Corax.”

Marco looked down, finding yellow eyes once again looking at him intently. He was more sure about his movements this time when he reached out, stroking along the black feathers.

“Edward found her,” Ace added, voice awfully soft, but Marco heard anyway and looked back towards him, surprised and perhaps a bit hurt that he hadn’t known about any of this. “Come on,” Ace said, voice back to normal in a flash as he turned around towards the direction he came from, “breakfast is getting cold.”

With that, Ace whistled and all three dragons ran after him, leaving Marco confused until Ace called over his shoulder: “You too, Majesty!”

For some reason, the title sounded awfully sarcastic from Ace’s mouth, but Marco stood anyway, leaving his pillow and blanket on the ground before walking after Ace and the dragons. He didn’t hurry, aware that both times he’d been up there, Marco hadn’t taken the time to walk around and see more of the garden than what was around the stairwell. The place was too beautiful for him to not see it completely.

It was no surprise that everything looked stunning, though. The climate was a warmer one than outside so the plants and trees were mostly ones Marco had only seen around the Great Eastern Sea. The urge to spend more time there was almost overwhelming the more Marco saw and so far, he’d only seen foliage and the dragons. The peace was a definite bonus though, even while knowing Ace and his dragons were there. 

As far as Marco was concerned, there was more than enough space for all of them.

Looking around as he walked, Marco hadn’t noticed the small house beyond the line of trees in front of them until they were right in front of it and Ace started climbing the low stairs leading to the porch. For royal standards, it was a humble cottage, made of carved wood and not really fit to house a king. It was obviously cared for, even if its age was showing in the bits of peeling paint and the creaking of the boards, but it was still impressive and absolutely beautiful, surrounded by trees and flowers under the early morning sun. 

Ace stopped in front of the door, turning around only then to check whether Marco was following or not. 

“I can give you a tour after breakfast,” he said, sounding slightly impatient, “if your stalling doesn’t make my food even more cold than it probably already is.”

Marco narrowed his eyes, debating with himself for a moment whether he should remind Ace who he was talking to, but decided against it almost immediately. Technically, Ace wasn’t being rude, he just wasn’t doing much to kiss Marco’s ass and it was nice to have someone other than the guard treat him like a human being rather than a king.

“I don’t think this place is big enough for me to need a tour,” Marco said, but started walking anyway, meeting Ace in front of the door before they entered the house together. 

The smell of food was overwhelming the closer they got to the small kitchen and Marco realized just how hungry he was. Ace motioned for him to sit down at the table, before he led the dragons outside, presumably to feed them as well. Despite the hunger, Marco waited patiently, looking around as he sat there only to note just how much the place looked like a home. 

Not his home, obviously, given that the royal palace was the only place he could call as such, even if it had only been true while his father was alive. At the moment, he wasn’t sure of it, just like he wasn’t sure of much just yet. 

This house, though, looked warm and lived in, peaceful even with the screeching from outside and Ace’s laughter mixed into a cacophony of sounds. The windows were open and offered a view of the trees outside, only adding to the sense of peace Marco had already come to associate with the place, despite the presence of a stranger. 

“I brought you here to eat, you know,” Ace said from the doorway, looking at Marco with an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed. It was pretty much the only way Marco had seen him the few times they’d met. 

“I was waiting for you,” Marco said. “It’s polite,” he added at the unimpressed look he’d gotten from Ace. It was astounding just how unimpressed a person could look. 

Still, Ace walked over to the table and sat down, digging into his food and prompting Marco to do the same. The silence wasn’t something Marco would call comfortable, not with the glances Ace sent his way every once in a while, as if he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure how to phrase it. 

“Do we have to leave?” Ace asked just as Marco stuffed the last bit of his pancakes into his mouth. He was far too hungry for proper manners. “Now that the garden is yours.”

Marco couldn’t help but sputter in surprise, almost choking on his food as a result. He hadn’t even thought of that, despite his feelings about not knowing Ace was in the garden at all. 

“No,” he replied once he downed the glass of water Ace handed him, “you can stay. My father allowed you to stay for a reason. I may not know what it is, but he rarely made bad decisions.”

Ace’s closed off expression shattered, finally revealing something to Marco. It was obvious surprise first, Ace’s eyes wide and jaw slack. That turned into into relief so fast, Marco almost wasn’t sure whether it even happened. 

“Thank you,” Ace said softly, a small smile playing on his lips, genuine gratitude shining through. “All four of us are very grateful.”

The change in his demeanor was shocking and Marco found himself gaping just a bit. He’d hoped Ace would warm up to him at least a little, considering Marco planned on spending more time up there in the future, but he hadn’t thought it would happen this soon. 

And yet, there they were, finishing breakfast and Ace was smiling at him, suddenly looking younger and lighter somehow. His freckles seemed to glow brighter, but Marco couldn’t tell whether that was reality or he’d just started imagining things. 

“You’re welcome,” he replied lamely, still feeling slightly stunned. 

“Would you like that tour now, your Majesty?” Ace asked, still smiling, though Marco could detect a hint of amusement in his eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago. 

“Please, call me Marco,” Marco replied. The title felt so out of place up there. “And yes, lead the way.”

So Ace did, waving off Marco’s offer to clean up the table before leaving the house. All three dragons were waiting for them outside and seeing them brought so many questions to mind that he finally felt like he could ask and actually get an answer from Ace. 

“You said my father found the black one,” Marco said, after trying to recall the names Ace had told him, but couldn’t. 

“Corax,” Ace reminded him. “He brought her to me around ten years ago, from a trip to the Ember Isles, but he never said how exactly he found her.”

“What about the others?” Marco asked instead of questioning Ace further. He remembered the trip, even though he hadn’t gone to the Isles for the negotiations. His father never mentioned anything about a dragon, though, and the knowledge stung a bit. 

“Jay was the first one,” Ace started, the affection so obvious in his voice. “He was my mother’s technically, though he only hatched shortly after she died. The egg was a part of her dowry, as far as Edward told me.”

He sounded sad, talking about his mother, even if he hadn’t said much about her at all, and as curious Marco was, he couldn’t bring himself to ask just yet.

“So he’s about my age now,” Ace continued, smiling again, but the smile dimmed a bit compared to earlier.

“And how old would that be?” Marco asked, ignoring that Ace’s words added up to the fact his mother must have died shortly after he was born.

“I thought it was bad form to ask that,” Ace said as he glanced over his shoulder towards Marco, smirking a little as far as Marco could see. He hadn’t been expecting banter quite yet either.

“Only if you’re a lady,” Marco told him, “if I remember my nanny’s rules correctly. But it has been a long time since she taught me those.”

“I’m 33,” Ace said with a laugh. The dragons were walking along with him, thought Corax stayed a bit behind, walking with Marco instead. He felt feathers brush against the tips of his fingers every once in awhile, 

“And what about the red one?” Marco asked, giving up on trying to remember the name this time. He was far too startled at the time to pay attention to them. 

“Pyrrho,” Ace said, drawing the dragon’s attention. “I found him myself at the edge of the Desert Borderlands, a few years before Corax came along.”

“I thought you said you spent your whole life here,” Marco said, frowning as he recalled at least that, from the last time he’d been up there. 

“Well, I did,” Ace said, “kind of. I left when I was 17, wanted to see the world outside of this garden.”

Marco had so many questions, about the dragons and about Ace himself, but there was no way he could ask just why Ace grew up cut off from the outside world and whether he’d spent all that time alone up there.

“And I did,” Ace continued, drawing Marco’s attention again. His voice was sad again, but not as noticeably as when he’d mentioned his mother. Obviously, there was much more to the story than what he told of it, but Marco had no right to ask about it yet. He was lucky Ace wanted to share as much as he had. “Of course, I was planning on coming back. Jay was still here, after all, but finding Pyrrho just made me come back sooner than I thought.”

“How have you been living here this long without anyone knowing?” Marco blurted out before he could stop himself. Not knowing was frustrating him to hell.

“Edward obviously knew,” Ace said with a smile. “It’s not like a lot of people come up here, you know. In fact, it’s been almost 20 years since anyone other than him has been here.”

Marco stopped at that, staring after Ace until he stopped as well, noticing Marco was no longer following him. He turned, confusion obvious on his face as he looked back at Marco.

“Doesn’t it get lonely?”

It was a simple question, yet so complicated at the same time. He hadn’t actually meant to ask it, not quite yet at least, but he couldn’t help it. The way Ace said it so casually rubbed Marco the wrong way. Something was telling him there was more to it than what Ace let on, but they hadn’t known each other nearly long enough for Marco to actually know for sure or call Ace out on it. 

He had no right to worry about Ace, and yet… And yet. 

That was something Marco knew would occupy his thoughts for the time being, picking apart this irrational worry and the reasoning behind it. Whether it was for Ace’s sake or because Marco saw himself and how lonely he used to be, even surrounded by so many people. 

“Well,” Ace started, standing a short distance from Marco, with Pyrrho and Jay flanking him, pressing themselves closer to his legs as if they knew something Marco didn’t, “yes. It does.” 

The way he started, with an easy smile and confidence in his expression, Marco expected Ace to brush the question off and change the topic, but the way he looked at Marco, as if searching for something, made it obvious he’d found whatever it was that made him answer honestly. And Marco had no idea what to do with that answer. 

He couldn’t offer comfort, knowing it would mean next to nothing from a stranger, yet he found himself wanting to offer it anyway. 

“I hope you won’t mind if I come up here more often, then,” Marco said instead, putting his diplomacy skills to some use and hiding the fact he’d be beyond disappointed if Ace said he’d mind his presence. 

“Do I need to point out that you own this place and I can’t really tell you to stay away?” Ace asked, smiling teasingly this time as if the somber atmosphere of the previous moments hadn’t happened. 

“I am aware of that, thank you very much,” Marco snarked back, more glad about the change than he’d like to admit. “It is polite to ask, though. You’ve lived here for decades and I’ve only been allowed to come here for the past few weeks, so you do have some say in it.”

The words only made him think about the reason he was allowed to come up to the garden, though, and Marco had done his best to not think about his father’s death since it happened. It was far from a healthy way of grieving, but he couldn’t afford that, not without the risk of looking weak in front of the nobility, most of which would use it against him. 

As much as he’d always wished he wasn’t born into royalty, Marco wasn’t about to hand over his father’s kingdom to someone else. 

“You’re awfully polite, aren’t you?” Ace asked, sounding genuinely curious and it only made Marco laugh out loud. 

“I don’t think many people would agree with that,” he replied before he started walking again, prompting Ace to move as well and they continued their walk, the dragons occasionally disappearing amongst the trees.

“Why is that?” 

“I don’t think I can answer that,” Marco said, thinking of all the times Izou and Vista had seen him a bit worse for wear, picking fights he’d be unable to win without the two of them by his side. 

Ace lifted an eyebrow at the reply, looking slightly skeptical, but said nothing more on the matter, just shook his head with a small smile a moment later, as if he knew what Marco was thinking. 

“I don’t mind you coming here more often,” Ace said instead, still with that same smile and Marco couldn’t stop himself from noticing how it suited him, the softness that came with the curve of his lips and the glow from his freckles that seemed to intensify the more he smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d considered someone as interesting as he’d found Ace in a single morning, Marco realized suddenly as they somehow circled back to the clearing he’d slept in. 

“Would they mind?” Marco asked, glancing down at Corax still by his side. She hadn’t gone very far since he’d woken up, other than the time he was inside the house with Ace. 

“They haven’t eaten you yet so I think you’re safe,” Ace said matter of factly, taking a moment to pet Jay who seemed more than pleased with the attention. 

“Did you think they actually might?” 

“Maybe?” Ace replied, thought it sounded an awful lot like  a question. “Probably not. Well, Corax and Pyrrho are well behaved, but I can’t make any promises for Jay.”

Marco stopped, yet again, and just started at Ace, unsure whether he should believe what was said or not. Either way, he knew he’d never probably fall asleep up there, in the grass, as easily as the night before, what with knowing a dragon might maul him in his sleep. 

“You’re joking, right?” Marco asked, a bit too worried about what was being said to pay attention to the embarrassing, nervous pitch of his voice. 

“You should probably head downstairs,” Ace said, bending down to pick up Marco’s pillow and blanket from the grass where they’d left them earlier instead of addressing Marco’s question. “It’s getting quite late and I’m sure you have a busy afternoon ahead of you.”

He handed them to Marco, smiling as if he hadn’t just suggested Marco might get eaten if left all alone in the garden.

“Ace?” he tried, narrowing his eyes in a poor attempt at trying to threaten an answer out of Ace, but failing at it as Ace was already retreating from the clearing and back towards the house.

“Have a nice day, Majesty,” he said, walking backwards and still smiling at Marco, offering a little wave before he whistled a short tune that made the dragons hurry towards him. “We hope to see you again soon.”

Marco was left speechless, watching as the four of them disappeared before he snapped out of it and walked down towards the stairs instead of following Ace because he had been right, there was a busy afternoon ahead of him. After spending the night and morning up in the garden, under the clear skies, seeing the inside of his chambers felt constricting. He dumped the pillow and blanket on the nearest sofa, brushing the grass and broken leaves off them as an afterthought. 

It was only moments later, when he was changing out of the clothes he’d worn for far too long, that Marco realized he’d focused so much on Ace that he’d failed to see the garden around them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may also notice that this is now a series. It's a surprise it took me till chapter 2 to get ideas for some small side stories in this AU, but well here we are. Get ready for the story about the oracle :D


	3. The first council

It was almost surprising how fast Marco got used to sleeping in the grass up in the garden. Almost because he'd always felt more free in the grass and under the stars, sleeping more soundly with the sounds of the wind and rustling leaves to lull him to sleep. He'd even gotten used to waking up with at least one dragon snuggled up against him. Gotten used to it and liked it, even.

Usually, it was only Corax, with her head nestled on top of his stomach as he slept, settled in next to him like an oversized, affectionate cat. He couldn't say he didn't enjoy it, the affection so easily given even though he was a stranger to her. Ace only smiled whenever he saw them, not once commenting on it and Marco didn't have the heart to ask. Not yet, anyway, when it still stung that his father kept so much from him.

With the weeks that had passed, though, Marco managed to find a semblance of peace up there, wrapped up in this bubble of safety where no one had demands, save for when the dragons tried to coax treats out of him after Ace had said no.

As the weeks went by, Marco had also gotten used to waking up with Ace nearby.

"You know, there is a perfectly good house here with a perfectly comfortable bed you could use," Ace said when Marco lifted his hand to pet Corax, who was sprawled over him. He hadn't opened his eyes just yet, but he could imagine the disapproving look on Ace's face. It wasn’t difficult after seeing it almost every morning.

"You know, I have a perfectly good bed in my perfectly good bedroom downstairs too," Marco said, "and yet I still rather sleep here."

"Then you're an idiot," Ace said with a sigh, making Marco snort before he opened his eyes and sat up slowly, letting Corax shift as he moved.

"I'm not saying you're wrong," Marco started with a laugh, "but that doesn't change the fact that it's nice out here."

Corax screeched at him a bit before lifting her head to look at him for a moment. Marco stroked her head a little and then she was off, calling out to the other two somewhere in the garden.

"Does that mean it's time for breakfast?" Marco asked cheerfully, looking up at Ace who came closer to offer him a hand.

"In addition to a perfectly good bed, I understand you also have a more than perfect chef," Ace said instead of an actual answer. "There's really no need for me to feed you."

“I am grateful that you still do,” Marco said with a grin as he stood up, holding on to Ace’s hand for perhaps a moment longer than necessary.

“You could at least show up without me having to come here every morning to get you,” Ace said, sounding less like he was scolding Marco than his words suggested before starting towards the house.

“But where’s the fun in that?”

“You know, I can still sic the beasts on you,” Ace said in a light singsong voice, looking over his shoulder with overwhelmingly obvious mischief in his eyes.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Marco told him seriously, though at this point he was sure at least Corax liked him enough not to hurt him. “Would you, though?” Marco asked, genuinely curious. As much as they’d spoken about the dragons, Marco never asked why exactly Ace took care of them.

At Ace’s confused look, Marco elaborated: “Tell them to attack? Anyone, really, not me in particular. Would they do it?”

Ace looked away and Marco couldn’t really read the expression on his face, but the short pause spoke volumes before Ace actually spoke.

“I don’t think they would attack you,” he said carefully. “I’d like to think they wouldn’t attack anyone, of course, but they are predators by nature and living here with me hasn’t changed their nature that much.”

Marco couldn’t say he was appeased by those words, though he did find it hard to believe at this point that they would harm him, let alone Ace.

“I wouldn’t try to make them attack anyone, though,” he added, quietly, barely more than a whisper, but Marco heard him nonetheless and found he wasn’t surprised in the slightest. “They deserve to be treated better than that.”

Ace’s steps sped up at that, just enough for Marco to notice and recognize as the end to this particular conversation. He watched Ace climb the stairs to the porch and disappear inside, deciding to slow down a bit and allow Ace a moment with his thoughts. And to allow himself a moment as well, if he was being honest with himself, because he had no idea what to make of this.

In the time since he’d met Ace and the dragons, Marco had done as much research as he could. His private library held tomes and scrolls from around the world, all of them rare and valuable and full of knowledge Marco couldn’t even imagine. Luckily, some of that knowledge was about dragons, from a time when they’d been much more common than they appear to be now.

The things he’d read though, about the potential uses of those dragons, were despicable. Even more so after seeing the three of them himself, spending time with them and seeing they were hardly dangerous when treated with respect. Marco couldn’t bring himself to even imagine Corax used as a weapon, not now that he knew how gentle she was when sneaking up on him at night just to snuggle up and sleep next to him.

It wasn’t much of a surprise that most of the uses listed for dragons had to do with war and destruction. He was a soldier, after all, and knew well enough that almost anything could find its purpose at war, but that didn’t mean that should be the case. Of course, at this point he would do anything to protect those three dragons he came to know and care for.

His mind, as treacherous as it was, supplied that he'd do anything to protect Ace as well, already knowing that something happening to the dragons would surely crush him. Marco had to admit he wouldn't be left unscathed either, but it wasn't something he was ready to admit aloud.

Ace peeked out of the house then, face showing worry and confusion for the moment it took Marco to snap out of his thoughts and finally go inside. It made the worry disappear from Ace's face and it gave him a fair amount of satisfaction, that he could make Ace smile without actually doing anything other than joining him for breakfast. As if they hadn't done the exact same thing every morning for weeks now. Marco was slowly forgetting what it meant to eat with his friends and he could admit he missed listening to their usual complaints at the breakfast table, but he couldn't say this arrangement was a bad one either.

"Any new marriage proposals you want to complain about?" Ace asked with a grin that was almost bordering on wicked and Marco had to groan because he could blame no one but himself for actually telling Ace about the proposals he'd gotten so far. The satisfaction Ace got from hearing about the proposals and teasing Marco about them was completely unexpected, though.

"Not yet," he replied with his eyes narrow, going for threatening, but knowing he was fooling no one. "There's still time, though, before I officially form the council."

"You've been taking your time with that, haven't you?"

"If you knew the people I have to deal with, you'd probably understand why I'm so reluctant to do this at all," Marco admitted, showing some bacon into his mouth so he could stay quiet for a moment longer.

It was somewhat unusual how open he was about his duties and decisions when talking to Ace, but it was easy, talking to someone who had nothing to gain from Marco's decisions outside of that garden. Ace had yet to judge him for anything he'd shared so far and it was nice, to confide in someone without worrying about betrayal. There was Izou, of course, there was always Izou, but it didn't feel right to burden Izou with more worries than he already had due to his own job.

"I think I have most of them picked out, actually," he said once the bacon was gone and Ace was looking at him like he knew exactly what was going on. For an almost complete stranger, Ace was able to read him quite well.

"Well then you're almost done, aren't you?" Ace asked, eating his breakfast with more poise and calm than Marco had which was in itself pretty uncommon.

"I am, but once I make it official, I have to live with these people as my advisors," he said. "I'm hoping I'm not wrong in trusting some of them, but I can't really be sure."

He could never be sure, not with the cautionary tales his father had about trust in people he surrounded himself with. There were always traitors around them, even in the circles closest to the crown.

"If they betray you, Corax would probably eat them for you," Ace said before sipping his coffee with an air of innocence that Marco couldn't help but find suspicious.

"I'm not sure what to say to that," Marco told him truthfully, torn between worried someone will find out about her and warmed that Ace thought she’d do that for him.

"Show your gratitude to Corax for liking you this much?" Ace posed it as a question, but he looked as if he was teasing and Marco knew he was at this point and he could do nothing but laugh out loud and be grateful for the peace he has up there.

"I'm hoping all of it will be over and done with soon," Marco said seriously, still feeling light from the laughter he let overtake him moments ago. He didn't want to mention the increased reports of attacks from the borders or the messengers that kept coming to the palace about casualties and frightened villagers evacuating their homes.

"I hate to point it out, but none of it will be over and done with as long as you're king," Ace told him, looking at Marco with the most serious expression he'd worn ever since the day they met. It felt like years ago at this point, not just several weeks.

"I know," Marco said with a sigh, draining the last of his coffee and averting his gaze to the branches just beyond the window, pretending for a moment longer than he didn't have to go downstairs and deal with people again.

"You're always welcome here, though," Ace told him a short while later, when they were saying their goodbyes and Marco was almost already halfway downstairs in his rooms, seemingly impossibly far from the garden he's come to think of as home.

* * *

For the first time since the coronation, Marco was surrounded only by nobles he'd decided he could trust well enough to let them advise him. It was a fast decision in the end, that came with yet another report of an attack. This time, it was a military strike, surprisingly well coordinated and done with such efficiency that Marco was surprised anyone had lived long enough to send word to the palace.

One of the watch towers had fallen, leaving them exposed to attack from the north, but there were still no official reports on who was leading the charge. They carried no flags or markers of a king, nothing to reveal who they were exactly, and it unnerved Marco to no end.

On the one hand, he knew this was not a threat from a neighboring kingdom, because they would reveal their colors and make it known why they were attacking.

On the other, he had no idea who was breaking the peace that his father worked so hard for during his rule, and killing innocent people to make a point that Marco was sure wouldn't even be worth all the death. Nothing ever was, really, and there was no explanation that could make him feel better about this.

It did bring a sense of urgency, though, to his task of forming the council and the decision was easy to make when it was so pressing. Marco could almost feel the displeasure of those who were rejected, but couldn't find it in himself to care at the moment. He knew a fair share of them were already leaving the palace anyway, and he had more urgent matters to deal with than grown men with various degrees of power throwing temper tantrums.

He was facing a war, there was no denying that at this point, and the fact he had no clue who against made everything worse.

"I'm sure you all know I've invited you here because you've been chosen to join my council," Marco said from his spot at the table, glancing over the faces of the eight people looking at him. "The reason I've called you here this urgently is that we have pressing matters to discuss."

They all leaned closer, almost deathly silent as they waited for him to speak.

"We've been getting reports of minor attacks in various parts of the Borderlands for several weeks now. There were barely few casualties and the groups attacking were small, but well coordinated, and they disappeared as fast as they appeared. This morning, there was a new report from the north. The Queen’s tower has fallen and our troops stationed there were all killed."

This evoked a reaction from the people present, varying from shock to anger, but no one spoke just yet.

"I didn't call you here to help me make a decision because the course of action is more than obvious," Marco continued. "I am leading the troops out at dawn and hopefully the matter will be resolved fast. The scouts have left already and we're waiting on new information from them."

This brought on approval from those gathered, seemingly all of them nodding along.

"Do we know who is leading them?" Lord Sabo asked in a serious manner, holding off on formalities in a way Marco came to associate with him and appreciate in the short time he'd spent in his company.

"They don't have flags or crests with them," Marco replied, "so we haven't been able to confirm who it is. They are organized and seem to be trained well, but their motives are a mystery."

"Do we know how many there are?" Lady Hancock asked, for once serious and involved in the conversation rather than looking at the men around her with distaste.

Marco had to admit he was never sure what to make of her, but her loyalties lay completely with those who helped the people under her care and Marco knew she would be an invaluable part of his council. As far as he’d heard, though, no one expected her to be chosen and that filled Marco with a sense of pride.

"A small army that we know of, but there's no telling if there are more troops hidden and waiting for us," Marco said. "The sentry is sent out to comb the area and make sure there are no traps waiting for us tomorrow. The army is preparing as we speak, but I am leaving half of them here in case we are being led into an ambush and they've already infiltrated the kingdom further than we think."

"My brother and his men are at your disposal, Your Majesty," Lord Sabo said and Marco couldn't help but remember the brother in question, someone that managed to surprise Marco in the best way possible. “He is currently at our estate in Foosha and would be able to meet up with you at the other side of Sabaody Forest, to join you on the way to the border.”

Marco nodded at that, knowing verbal thanks were not needed given that any noble's army was technically his army as well, while their Lord remained under his rule.

"I will go as well, Majesty," Lord Beckman said and Marco knew that meant Shanks would be going as well. Inviting one of his father's guards to the council was a good idea, as far as Marco was concerned, but he hadn't expected he'd be getting a soldier out of it as well. He should have known, really, but it hadn't crossed his mind until then, when Marco only nodded in thanks again and the rest of the council still looked at him, serious, but somewhat dazed by the sudden invitation and the way this situation had been going so far.

The first meeting of the council and it was already a dire situation they had to discuss. Marco couldn't help but hate it, but in all honesty, he was surprised how long it took for things to go this way. It had been weeks since he was crowned and, with his luck, he had been expecting war on his first day with the crown. That may have been a pessimistic thing to think, but it wasn't exactly out there as one might imagine. Wars have been started over less than what was at stake here.

After all, he could only imagine they were after his position, while the rule was still in its early uneasy stages with him on the throne, and he was completely unwilling to let his father’s legacy end up in the hands of someone else.

“Given that I’m riding out with the army tomorrow, I couldn’t leave the council unformed,” Marco said after a short pause. “I have no idea when I’ll return and the council needs to be here while I’m away. If the need arises, I will be counting on Lord Sabo to command the troops that are staying in the capitol.”

Lord Sabo nodded, even if he seemed surprised by the trust he was being shown this fast after getting into the King’s good graces.

“I’m certain that the rest of you can make good decisions about anything else, if it comes to that,” Marco said and he knew it was a lot of faith to show this early, but he was certain at this point that he’d chosen wisely.

The decision to pick Lord Benn was an easy one, knowing the man from his father’s guard for the past decade and a half. He’d always been loyal and, more than once, he’d helped his father in matters extending well beyond the king’s personal safety. Even with Lady Hancock, the decision had been easy, knowing she cared about her people deeply and Marco could relate to that.

Lord Sabo was young, not the youngest of the eight of them, but he’d proven himself as a soldier and as a strategist already.

Namur was, just like Lord Benn, an easy choice. Marco had known him for almost as long as he’d known Izou and trust came easy in that regard, but there was always a representative of the Gyojin Isles on the council and Marco could hardly think of anyone better suited for the position than Namur.

Marco hadn’t hesitated when he’d invited Lord Jinbe either, and to him it was becoming increasingly clear that there were fewer doubts in his mind about who to invite than he’d initially thought. The biggest surprise was Countess Nami, especially after he had been offered her hand in marriage immediately after his coronation.

Izou had only good things to say about her, however, from the research that was done about her and from what he himself had heard on several occasions from her when she interacted with people Marco had a tendency to disagree with.

Because of that, no one even stirred when Lord Rayleigh and Lady Tsuru were invited, despite the fact Lord Rayleigh had some shady connections in his past. Marco had known him almost his entire life, though, and there were few people he trusted more than him.

Their meeting concluded soon after they all went through possible outcomes and tasks the council may need to take over while Marco was gone, but it had lasted long enough for Marco to become weary and immensely tired of this issue, even if he had yet to actually deal with it.

Izou was waiting for him just outside the door, with reports about the readiness of the troops and the message he’d received from the scouts, both of which barely had any new information for him.

“Everything is ready for tomorrow,” Izou said after relaying the morbidly short message about the state of the border. “You need to rest, though, considering you won’t be able to sleep in as long as you usually do.”

“I’ll be fine,” he replied, not in the mood to deal with Izou’s overprotectiveness at the moment. “Besides, I don’t sleep very long.”

“You haven’t been down to breakfast in weeks and I know for a fact you don’t leave your quarters until it’s almost lunch time, so forgive me for assuming the obvious,” Izou said with a raised eyebrow. “Unless you’d like to enlighten me, I don’t think I’ll be inclined to believe you haven’t started sleeping half the day away.”

“Maybe I’ll explain when we get back,” Marco said with a smile and if it looked as weak as it felt, Marco wasn’t surprised Izou didn’t press further.

“Get some rest as well,” Marco told Izou once they were making their way up towards their respective quarters. “Wouldn’t do if we’re both tired.”

“I think we’re getting too old for war,” Izou said with a wave before disappearing towards his rooms, leaving Marco to his own devices.

With a heavy step, he continued up towards his own rooms, only to get rid of his boots before climbing the short stairs up to the garden, feeling unsure of himself for the first time in weeks. The sense of peace that overcame him whenever he breathed in the sweet fragrance of flowers and let it wash over him was welcome, but it did nothing to erase the fact he would be riding out to war in a matter of hours. And yet, the dread he felt was more directed towards breaking the news to Ace than actually going.

He'd been to war before. He couldn't say he liked it, but it was one of the realities of the world they lived in, so there was nothing Marco could do to change it. The wars before had passed and he came out of them alive, there was no reason this one would be different.

Except that it felt different, and logically Marco knew nothing was the same this time around. Leading an army, though, was still second nature to him, and felt more familiar than wearing a crown. Anything felt more familiar than wearing a crown, though, so there was hardly a comparison to be had there.

"You look unusually glum," Ace's voice sounded from somewhere nearby, even though Marco didn't see him just yet. That seemed to happen quite often, Ace knowing exactly when Marco came up.  "And that's saying a lot because you always look glum to some degree when you come up here."

The words managed to make him smile, but it felt weak even to him. He couldn't imagine how brittle it looked to Ace as he finally stepped through the trees, but it must have been bad because he sobered immediately, worry coming over his face like an ugly mask Marco hated seeing. He hadn’t seen it often, not that he wanted to anyway.

"What's wrong?" Ace asked, walking closer and reaching out, for a moment looking as if he wanted to touch Marco, before he gathered himself and pulled his hand back.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Marco said. "Someone has been attacking the borders and one of the towers fell late last night."

"Someone declared war?" Ace asked, and the worry in his voice must have been strong enough to reach even the dragons and they ambled closer, appearing through the trees to press themselves around Marco's legs. They hadn’t done that before and he couldn’t help the warmth that washed over him.

The weight of them was oddly comforting, as was the warmth they pressed into him, making him worry less for a brief moment.

"We have no idea who it is," Marco replied and he sounded so weary to even his own ears, he couldn't imagine what Ace heard from that simple sentence. Sometimes he forgot to school his expression and words when he was up there, letting too much slip like he wasn't supposed to do in front of others, but it was Ace and the trust Marco had built towards him already was a liability probably.

Whatever it was that Ace saw on his face, or heard in the way he spoke, must have made him give up on questions, instead prompting Ace to take Marco's hand in a way he hadn't done before. He turned, his grip still firm on Marco's hand, and led the way to the house, without a word or an explanation offered. Marco couldn't say he minded, not after a day of more talking than he thought he was capable of, and he couldn't find it in himself to talk about the situation and the casualties more than he already has.

It was a failure on his part, as far as he was concerned. Realistically speaking, it couldn't have been his fault considering there was nothing to indicate a possible breach in their defenses, not after living at peace for the last several years and with the treaties they had with the kingdoms on the other side of their borders.

But it still stung as a personal failing of his because this meant his first decision as a king was to ride into battle. He stopped being the bloodthirsty, glory seeking moron years ago and fighting another war was far from ideal.

The people of this kingdom were under his care and he'd already failed too many of them. The number of casualties hadn't been that high, when he thought of other wars he'd fought, but it was still too high for his peace of mind. He could almost feel the support of his people slipping from him.

Lost in thought, Marco hadn't noticed Ace lead him into the house and up the narrow stairs until they were standing in a small bedroom, with a bed big enough to fit two people and a small wardrobe against the wall across it.

"Sleep here tonight," Ace said, letting go of Marco's hand, and the loss was something Marco felt more deeply than he'd thought he would. "When should I wake you?"

"You should sleep," Marco protested. "Don't worry about me."

"That is not what I asked," Ace replied, looking at Marco sternly and suddenly Marco felt more tired than ever.

"We ride out at dawn."

“Would you like me to make some dinner?” Ace asked. “Have you eaten at all?”

“I don’t think I’ve asked you this before,” Marco said, focusing on the things he’d wanted to ask so far instead of on the day ahead, “but where do you get the food you don’t grow here? As far as I know, there’s no bacon tree.”

Ace laughed a little at that, glancing at Marco with obvious amusement. “There’s a dumbwaiter that goes down to the kitchens. I thought you knew by now that someone on your staff sends food up here.”

“I never thought of it,” he replied honestly, feeling a tiny bit dumb for not figuring it out. It must have been one of those things he would have learned from his father, had he been given the chance. Now it was up to him to figure out who in the kitchens possibly knew about the secret of this place.

Ace nodded with a smile, looking Marco in the eyes for a moment as if he wanted to say something.

"Sleep," was the only thing he ended up saying, softly this time, his hand twitching for a moment and Marco thought he'd reach out again, but he didn’t in the end. “I’ll wake you in the morning,” he added before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

With that, Marco had no other option but to lie down and sleep as he was told, and hope for the best for the day ahead. At least now he knew that there really was a perfectly good bed for him in this perfectly good house.

* * *

Fitting, how the day came colder than the ones so far. Dawn came much later than it did only weeks ago, now that winter was almost here and the sun barely showed up during the day. Even the garden looked sad, most of the time, but the outside world was even more depressing, be it because of the weather, or because of where Marco was going on a cold day like this.

The forest was silent, if one could ignore the sounds of hundreds of hooves digging into the forest road, carrying soldiers towards the border. Marco was riding first, with Izou by his side, and a great number of soldiers trailing behind them. No one spoke, at least as far as Marco could hear, but he hadn't really been paying attention.

This was the boring part of the whole thing, the ride towards the border and the uncertainty about what was waiting for them once they arrive. Izou looked serious next to him, subtly scanning their surroundings for a surprise attack as they rode through the forest that was known for being overrun by bandits and fugitives because of the ease with which they could hide in there. It was a spectacularly large forest, thick and mysterious, a place where you could get lost all too easily or disappear of your own free will, if necessary.

It was also a good place for an ambush, with the one main road cutting straight through it, flanked from both sides by trees so tall, the light barely made it down to the ground.

Marco rode with a sense of apprehension. There were too many unknowns between where he was and their destination, which didn't sit well with him considering there was an entire army behind him. All of their lives in his hands, depending on him to lead them into battle and out of it so they could all return home safely. It sounded like an easy task, but it was one he had a terrible fear of failing.

"You look worried," Izou said, gaze still set in front of them, voice low enough for just the two of them to hear. He’d always been considerate like that.

"Of course I'm worried," Marco replied with a scoff. "My rule barely started and we're already marching into war. It’s not exactly what we were expecting, is it?"

"One battle doesn't make a war," Izou said sternly, in that wise way of his that got on Marco’s nerves more often than not. "And we will end this with one battle."

There was nothing Marco could say to that, not when Izou sounded so certain they could resolve this problem so swiftly. He wasn't quite as optimistic about it, but hearing the confidence in Izou's voice was enough to reassure him for the time being. Izou always had that kind of effect on Marco when he started to worry too much and it was a relief that it seemed to extend to issues more serious than what Marco used to worry about back in the day.

But like most things that came with the crown, Marco was getting used to the gravity of it all and the weight of all the lives that suddenly rested solely on his shoulders. He couldn't say he liked the responsibilities, but it was important to live up to the expectations his father had. They were big shoes to fill, after all, and Marco knew that from the very beginning.

Lost in thought, Marco sat in his saddle, barely registering the brightness that surrounded him as he neared the end of the forest. The journey was fairly long through the woods and he'd zoned out somewhere mid morning, letting Izou lead while he thought the course of action through. It was easy to plan from where he sat, with the reports memorized and witness accounts read through meticulously, but there was no telling how things would play out once the time for battle actually came.

Marco's attention was drawn not a moment later, as soon as he'd cleared the tree line, when an arrow whizzed by, narrowly missing his head and plunging into the nearest tree. Izou was on high alert immediately, drawing his crossbow, but there was no enemy in sight. All Marco could think of was that at least they wouldn’t have to ride all the way to the border, now that the enemy seemed to have come directly to them.

"Behind those houses," Izou said, nodding towards the small stone houses a short distance in front of them.

It was obvious that the village was empty, the people either dead or inside the forest, hiding from whoever attacked. The blood in Marco’s veins froze at the thought of more casualties.

Marco nudged his horse and moved further from the tree line, the soldiers following steadily, only the slow dull thudding of hooves and the clinking of weapons being drawn disturbing the silence. It seemed too peaceful for the bloodshed ahead of them, the day gray and cold, with flakes of snow making their way silently from the sky. They were, after all, pretty far north at this point and Marco would have liked to enjoy an early winter, if the circumstances were different. He’d always liked winter.

Marco signaled Bay to dismount and lead a squad of soldiers to flank from the east, hidden within the treeline as they made their way around the small village. Izou instructed Atmos to try and do the same from the west, keeping to the cover of trees and anything else that might work in their favor. Marco and Izou, with the rest of the army behind them slowly continued towards the village, the men behind them fanning out as they made it out of the forest.

Lord Sabo’s brother and his men were surely somewhere around, because this was their meeting place and all Marco could hope was that they hadn’t gotten ambushed earlier.

They remained as silent as possible, with this many men in armor and horses, but they were heard without a doubt, a fact that became clear when a single figure, sat on a huge black horse, rode out to meet them.

"I'm honored you came personally, Majesty," Lord Marshall said with one of his unnerving grins and Marco found he wasn't as surprised as he perhaps should have been.

This man had been in his father's council for almost a decade, yet there was always something that made Marco distrust him. He could never point out what it was, but there was a constant suspicion rising inside him whenever Marshall was near. It wasn’t something he felt about a lot of people and that alone should have made him check on Marshall sooner.

"You've made it easier for me to kill you, so I thank you," Marshall added with a bow of his head and Marco could see Izou position himself in a way that allowed him to jump in front of Marco if the need for that arose.

Marco couldn't say the thought of that thrilled him, Izou dying to protect him, but it was Izou's job and he took it seriously. No matter how much Marco wanted Izou to be careful and live, he wasn’t about to disrespect the seriousness with which Izou approached his duty to serve and protect his King.

"Are you going to tell me all about your evil plan now?" Marco asked, more for the purpose of buying Bay and his men more time to flank than because he was interested. “Let me guess, you’re planning on taking the crown for yourself and rule with an iron fist.”

"I don't have an evil plan," Marshall replied snidely, in a way that suggested Marco had hit a nerve with his words. "I just want you dead. Your Majesty."

The title was added as an afterthought, said more as an insult than anything else, not that Marco gave a damn what Marshall thought of him.

Before he could utter another word, aware that all eyes were on him and Marshall, an oddly familiar screech sounded somewhere ahead towards the village and all hell broke loose. Marshall panicked, grabbing the crossbow fastened to his saddle and he managed to fire in Marco’s direction, just that once. An arrow whizzed nearby, somewhere to Marco's left, but he had no clue where exactly, as preoccupied as he was with staring ahead, until the arrow was sinking into his shoulder, going through the armor like it was made of butter. For a moment, he was disappointed that the armor failed him so easily.

Marco barely blinked and looked up, before there was a short arrow lodged in the middle of Marshall's forehead, his face frozen in terror as he slipped from his saddle and fell to the ground with a dull thud, while Izou cursed next to Marco and nocked another arrow into his crossbow. He was fast and meticulous about it, something Marco was used to, but never ceased to amaze him.

The screeching persisted, though, and barely a heartbeat later, there was a murmur through the army around them, making Marco forget about the arrow in his shoulder and the pain spreading through his upper body.

"Dragon," they all uttered, some with fear, some with awe, but Marco paid no attention to them as he saw the small form of a dragon in front of him, scratching at the leather leash around its neck and the heavy muzzle attached to it. And from the corner of his eye, he saw Izou raise his crossbow again, aiming at the barely visible form in front of them.

This one was nothing like the three Ace kept in the garden. This one was wild, angry, and as white as the snow around them, its eyes as dark as the night and the only thing making him visible against the snow. The eyes and the leather restraints.

"No!" Marco shouted, reaching out towards Izou as he dragged himself out of his saddle. Izou faltered, glancing at him questioningly, but Marco noted that no one fired yet which was at least reassuring.

"Do not shoot the dragon!" he shouted as his feet hit the ground, jostling the arrow still sticking out of his shoulder and sending a wave of pain through him. "Go around and clear the village. Izou, send Vista and a dozen men to search the area for the villagers."

It took him barely a moment to grip the shaft of the arrow and break it off without sparing it another thought. After all, he had been shot before and breaking the shaft made dealing with the whole thing much easier. It did nothing for the pain, but at least he could move somewhat without jostling the arrow into a painful flare.

"What are you planning?" Izou asked with a wince, then immediately relaying the orders to the men behind them while he waited for Marco to speak.

"I need to bring that dragon back with us," he said, pulling some dried meat from his saddlebag, grateful that Izou thought to pack some rations for him too despite there being a supply wagon trailing behind. After all, the king wasn't meant to carry his own food and Marco knew that was idiotic when going on a journey like this one.

He could tell Izou was looking at him as if he was insane, without actually having to look over and see for himself. In fact, Marco knew exactly what Izou's face looked like in that moment, but he didn't falter, slowly making his way along the road, towards Marshall's corpse and the dragon behind it. The confused murmurs from the gathered soldiers reached him, but he ignored the lot of them. He needed to focus, after all.

Now that he was closer, he could hear sounds of a fight in the village, sure that his men had successfully flanked the enemy and attacked from behind while Marshall was distracted. Of course, the dragon was unexpected, but Marco could think of nothing other than bringing this dragon back to Ace where it would be safe and cared for..

Marco could almost feel Izou looking at him, as well as the several men that stayed with him, their gazes burning into his back, but he paid them no mind. He moved slowly and carefully, just like Ace showed him, until the dragon noticed him. His heart started beating faster as the dragon stilled, its black eyes following Marco's every movement. Almost as if he was prey, and feeling like prey was never pleasant.

Slowly, carefully, Marco removed one of his gloves, wincing at the pain in his left shoulder, but keeping quiet all the same. More for the sake of not alarming Izou than anything else, but Izou knew without a doubt that Marco was shot. It was impressive that he even let Marco dismount without dragging him away to a healer.

"Hello there," Marco said calmly, feeling like an absolute moron saying hello to a dragon that looked like it wanted nothing more than to claw his face off, but Ace told him to speak calmly. He never mentioned what exactly should be said, though, so Marco floundered for a moment, feeling extremely stupid and at a loss for words..

He reached out with his bare hand, slowly and as steady as he could manage given the pain he was feeling. His shoulder really hurt like hell, but he had more important things to think about at the moment and hopefully he’d have as much time as he needed to take care of the wound later after he befriended the dragon.

"Would you like me to remove that for you?" he asked, looking at the contraption fastened to the dragon's head and keeping its beak muzzled. "It can't be comfortable for you," he continued, soothing voice and all, despite the rage bubbling inside him at the sight of what Marshall had done to this dragon.

The dragon barely blinked, eyes never straying from Marco, but he seemed calmer, even if still on edge. He felt less like prey, so that had to count for something.

Marco lowered himself to the ground, crouching just out of touching distance.

"I'll let you have this if you let me take the collar off," he continued speaking, showing the dried meat he held in his hand, but having no clue whether it was actually working or not.

Well, he hadn't been attacked yet, so he was inclined to believe that things were at least going better than one could expect from a wild dragon.

"Oh, dragon!" an excited voice sounded all of a sudden and Marco barely lifted his gaze to notice Lord Sabo's brother standing behind the dragon, who suddenly moved, turning towards Lord Luffy to screech at him menacingly.

Without really thinking it through, because he simply knew Izou was already aiming his crossbow, Marco reached out and undid the clasp of the muzzle while the dragon was distracted.

That could have been a colossally bad idea or a really good one, but Marco had no time to think about that at the moment as the dragon froze in its tracks, staring at the muzzle where it fell to the ground. He really should have started thinking things through.

"It's alright," Marco said calmly, voice as low and as soothing as possible now that he was actually afraid. It was nothing, though, compared to the fear that felt like ice through his veins a moment later when the dragon screeched, a gust of flames pouring out of its beak and setting the thing in front of it on fire. He’d never seen Ace’s dragons do something like that.

"It's alright," Marco repeated, slightly dazed now, but also remembering his prophecy even though it wasn't nearly the right time to think about things like that and he couldn’t really pinpoint why he thought of that specific memory at the moment. "You're free now."

The dragon turned, and for a tense moment, Marco was sure he would be set on fire next.

"Do not shoot," he said a bit louder, hoping Izou heard, because he wasn’t about to turn around to check.

"I have to if it tries to kill you," Izou replied, but Marco took it as a good sign that Izou hadn't fired yet.

Before he had time to blink, the dragon ambled up to him and stole the dried meat from his left hand. The sounds were more similar to what Marco was used to from Corax and it helped him calm his heartbeat, hopeful that he managed to make the dragon trust him at least a bit.

"No one is going to shoot you," Marco said, once again low enough for his words to stay between him and the dragon. "I'm going to take you home. There is someone who would love to meet you."

The dragon was looking at him again, making soft sounds that were more familiar lately than the screeching, and Marco was sure someone had once taken care of this creature, taught it to trust humans, before Marshall came along. The Marshall family insignia was staring at Marco from the leather collar still attached to the dragon's neck and Marco wanted nothing more than to remove it.

It was easier thinking up a plan to do that than figure out how to transport the dragon from there all the way back home.

Carefully, making sure his movements weren't too sudden, Marco lifted his right hand, aware of the eyes watching it with rapt attention. He stopped when his fingers were eye level with the dragon, waiting for a sign of discontent and only moving to stroke along the feathers when he could find none.

They were incredibly soft, even if some of them were bent and broken from where the muzzle was strapped. With light, gentle touches, Marco stroked along the dragon's head before he reached down and undid the collar, letting that drop to the ground as the muzzle had, and the dragon startled, looking at Marco with confusion for a long moment where anything could have happened. He could almost feel the tension of the men behind his back, everyone seemingly holding their breath, until the dragon moved, lunging forward only to nuzzle against Marco, bumping the top of its head into Marco's chin.

It felt like a bigger victory, taming this dragon for at least a short while, than Marshall's death had felt, even though that had ended what could have been a war if Marco allowed it to go any further. And all it took was two question from Izou to make Marco doubt every decision he'd ever made.

"Now how exactly are you planning on bringing him back? And more importantly, where are we keeping him?"


	4. The gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is the last chapter and I am so happy it's done! I'm happy with it and as I love this AU a lot, I'm working on some oneshots for the series about Marco and Ace, but also things that have been mentioned in the story only in passing. Hopefully, you'll stick around to read those too ^^

He would have thought it would be more difficult, bringing the dragon home without having to put it on a leash again or into a cage they didn't really have on hand. He would have also thought that leaving the troops in Lord Beckman's capable hands would have been more difficult, but it came easier than he'd expected. After all, he was a seasoned soldier who had seen more wars than Marco dared think about, but Shanks was there as well and he knew the two of them had the situation well under control.

They were both above doing a simple border patrol with the soldiers, in an attempt to find any stragglers who might have escaped from the village by the forest, but Lord Beckman volunteered them nonetheless when it became apparent that the dragon would be going nowhere without Marco and Marco would be going nowhere without his guard. In the face of letting him travel back to the capitol, all the way through Sabaody, with no one but the dragon for company, Izou had protested loud enough for the other four to hear.

So getting home had been surprisingly easy, even with the way Marco had barely a moment free of thoughts about something happening to the troops, of another ambush waiting for them, of an army hiding by the border where they'd taken out the watch tower. But the dragon, as it turned out, could fly and follow the entire way back, without missing a beat or even scaring the horses so that was one less thing to worry about. Marco had no idea how he hadn't thought of the dragons actually being able to fly.

But as soon as the glass dome of his garden came into sight, with the sunset reflecting off the windows, his thoughts strayed elsewhere. He couldn't help but think of what Ace would say and whether or not Ace would actually take this newcomer in or not. Marco had a hard time imagining a refusal from Ace, and yet he worried.

He worried enough that ignoring the bystanders that gawked and stared at him and the dragon became easy, as they made their way through the palace and towards what would hopefully be this dragon's new home. Doubts of this kind were a new thing, somewhat unsteady and hard to imagine becoming true, but Marco let them fester a bit until they were all the way in his room and ready to enter the garden.

It warmed him a little, seeing that he was followed so readily by this dragon that had been betrayed by mankind before, but the doubt about Ace accepting him was still present. Enough that Marco hadn't even noticed when the guards silently left his side, but he knew Izou at least would have questions soon enough.

For now, though, he'd remained silent, contemplative as always, but not yet ready to push the issue, and for now, Marco remained grateful for it. He couldn't explain it, but the desire to keep Ace a secret was all too present and it almost scared him, because desires like that weren't welcome in a king. Still, he let that go as well, only stopping for a moment that took for him to remove the heavy riding coat and abandon it in his rooms before he opened the door.

He'd been gone for barely hours and yet breathing in the sweet scented air made him feel homesick. As if he wasn't actually there, he still missed the place after barely being gone. In all honesty, he'd gone for longer without stepping foot up there and yet he was almost relieved to be back.

A playful screech sounded from next to him before the dragon shot up the stairs and into the garden. Marco was overwhelmed by panic immediately, unsure what to do now that any proper introductions were out of the question before the newcomer met the other three.

Marco ran up the stairs in hopes he'd catch the dragon before the other inhabitants of the garden were made aware of a new presence, but there was no time for that as he walked out into the grass and found Corax staring down the new dragon with an obviously defensive stance.

It hadn't occurred to him that they looked like polar opposites; where this dragon had feathers of a pure white, Corax was entirely black. They looked like night and day, staring each other down, and Marco was transfixed for a moment.

Until two more voices sounded and Jay and Phyrro stepped into the clearing, joining Corax in blocking their path. They hadn't spared Marco a glance, unlike Corax, but she diverted her gaze to the newcomer almost immediately as well.

"What is going on?" Ace's voice called from a distance, getting closer with every passing second, before he too walked out of the tree line and his eyes fell on Marco.

And immediately, his face broke into a grin, joyous and relieved, if Marco was correct.

"Marco," Ace said, soft sounding and so happy to see him, "you're home."

And oh how those words brought warmth to his chest, a warmth that spread and filled him to his very fingertips and he still found himself dumb enough to wonder why that was.

But then Ace's gaze fell, drawn just a moment too late to the dragons. Marco had almost forgotten they were there. And just like that, Ace was serious, looking at the newcomer with interest and apprehension.

"Did you capture a dragon out of the wild?" Ace asked, deathly serious, but his gaze still on the dragon.

Marco almost flinched at the accusation, but decided to save it for now. After all, it was a fairly valid question, given the circumstances.

"The Lord leading the attacks on our borders had him," Marco said, as calmly as possible. "He was muzzled and collared. We haven't hurt him, but I have no idea what was done to him before today."

Ace's face softened, as it often did when he looked at his own trio of beasts, before he was lowering himself to the ground much in the same way he'd instructed Marco to do.

It was an absolute delight, watching Ace calm his dragons and convince them to move before he approached the small form of the white dragon. Now that he had the other three for comparison, Marco could notice this one was smaller. Not by much, but the difference was startlingly obvious now that he could see all four of them together.

"What's his name?" Ace asked, snapping Marco's attention back to them.

"I have no idea," he replied honestly, refraining from shrugging his shoulders. "Marshall was dead before I could ask him any questions." This time he did shrug, unable to hide how little he cared of the fate that befell Marshall, after everything he'd done. And Marco was certain what he knew wasn't even half of the misdeeds he’d done in his life and against the crown.

"Well, would you care to name him then?" Ace asked, slightly impatiently. "We have to call him something."

"Churro," Marco said, completely without a second thought. Ace finally looked at him, though, with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk on his lips.

"Churro? Really?" he asked, but didn't actually suggest anything else, so Marco simply nodded.

"Churro it is, then," Ace said, turning back to the dragon in question, and it was truly stunning, the way Ace seemed to lose focus of everything else as he devoted his full attention to getting closer to Churro, to calm him as well as to gain his trust.

He spoke softly, as Churro seemed to warm up to his presence, but Marco couldn't focus on the words, letting himself be lulled into a sense of calm with the tone of Ace's voice alone. It was something he could get used to, he realized with a jolt of surprise, only then realizing just how soothing Ace's voice was.

As he stood there, though, Marco found he wasn't really needed at the moment. The trio was watching Ace and Churro curiously, all three of them calm as Ace spoke, and Churro seemed more open to the idea of getting closer to Ace and the others. Ace's attention never strayed from Churro, though, and Marco decided it was a good time to retreat, to change his clothes and maybe wash himself, because he'd done his part.

Churro was safe with Ace and that was enough to finally ease the knot that had formed in his chest, out of fear Ace wouldn't let him stay.

Slipping back and out of the garden, Marco knew it was silly of him, to doubt Ace like that. They hadn't known each other that long, but Marco had to admit that he knew Ace better than that already. It wasn't precisely shame he felt at thinking so lowly of Ace, but it was a near thing.

Marco closed the door slowly and as quietly as possible, unwilling to disturb Ace and the dragons in such a delicate situation. Peace was undoubtedly needed for what Ace was doing and all Marco could do was hope that everything would turn out well, because he didn't really have a backup plan if this one didn't work out.

"So," Izou's voice interrupted his thoughts, startling him to the point where he couldn't hide it, "you have a pet dragon now."

It didn't sound like a question and Marco knew well enough that there was more to it, but he knew better than to play stupid in front of Izou after all these years. He was sitting in the plush chair a short distance from the door, legs crossed as he leaned back, looking comfortable and so very nonchalant.

"I wouldn't call him a pet."

"What would you call him then?" Izou asked and at least he sounded genuinely curious instead of accusatory or snide. "I know there's a lot you're not telling me and I respect your privacy given how little of it you have now, but the word has spread already that you tamed a dragon and I think this is a good time you share at least some of your secrets."

It broke him a little, hearing the words spoken as they were, genuinely, but without hiding the hurt about being kept in the dark and Marco couldn't help but think about his father, and the secrets he'd kept for so long.

"Do you think this is going to be a problem? If the word is spreading that I brought a dragon here?" Marco asked, delaying the talk he really knew he'd have to have with Izou, but wishing to buy a bit more time to think about how best to explain he has a man living upstairs that he eats breakfast with every morning. And oh, there are also four dragons up there that act like giant cats, but could possibly burn the entire place down.

"I don't know yet," Izou replied, though it was obvious from his tone alone that he saw right through Marco's ploy. "I'll keep an eye out on things, but hopefully everyone will think you're just being an eccentric ruler that has to have a dragon. Now talk."

Marco sighed before he walked further into the room so he could sit on the bed and at least remove his boots, now that they weren't necessary anymore.

"You know only the king is allowed up there," Marco started, his words followed by a thud of his left boot hitting the floor. He didn't dare look up and watch Izou's face as he spoke. "I went up there after the funeral and I met Ace."

"What is an ace?" Izou asked, sounding awfully confused and annoyed.

"Ace is a man five years younger than me that lives in a small cottage up in the garden," Marco said, keeping his voice even, trying hard not to chuckle at how stupid that sounded, as his other boot fell to the floor with a thud. "He also has three dragons up there."

The silence that followed stretched a bit too long, considering Marco was talking to Izou, and he finally lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Izou and taking note of the baffled look on his face.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Marco sighed, sure that Izou wasn't doing this on purpose because it was a lot to take in, and fairly difficult to believe, all things considered. The dragon was one thing, but Marco had no idea how to explain Ace's presence up there, given that Marco himself had no clue about the whole story there. Ace hadn't exactly offered much either, in the time they'd known each other.

"I really don't know how else to explain," Marco said. "There is a man living in my father's garden and he takes care of three dragons. Well, there’s four now."

"And you just let some stranger stay up there, where he has easy access to your private rooms?" Izou asked, and now he sounded angry instead of confused, but his voice remained low. It was almost worse than yelling, honestly.

"He's not going to do anything to harm me, Izou," Marco said with another sigh.

"How the hell do you know that for sure?"

"Well, considering I mostly sleep upstairs then eat breakfast with him every day, he's had plenty of chances to do something if he really wanted to," Marco reasoned, though he knew immediately that his choice of words wasn't the best at the moment.

"Come again?" Izou's face morphed from confusion, to rage, then to the picture of complete inability to comprehend the words that were being spoken.

"Izou, calm down," Marco said, slightly exasperated now, and suddenly so incredibly tired. "My father trusted him. He's lived up there his entire life and my father visited him almost daily. He isn't going to harm me."

This seemed to calm Izou, at least, to a point where he was no longer seething.

"How does he live up there? Where does he get food?" Izou asked, curious now that his worries were calmed somewhat.

"Apparently there's a dumbwaiter going down to the kitchens and someone there knows to send him things," Marco said. "Now that I think about it, I have no idea who it could be."

Of all the reactions Izou could have had, Marco hadn't expected the blush and the way he ducked his head.

"I think it's Thatch," Izou said softly. There was something fond in his voice that Marco hadn't heard in a very long time, and that immediately brought a grin to his face.

"And how well do you know Thatch?" Marco asked, not bothering to ask since when Izou and his head chef were on a first name basis because hearing about the how and the why was more interesting.

Izou lifted his gaze then, glaring a little, but it lacked the usual bite. He must have been extremely smitten, then.

"Very well," Izou said, somewhat defiantly. "Would you like to hear the details?"

He looked like he was about to share those details and Marco had to shake his head, rather furiously, as he laughed.

"No, thank you," he said, still smiling and, he noticed with relief, that Izou was smiling as well.

"I think he was my prophecy," Izou said suddenly, in a voice so soft, Marco was sure Izou hadn't really said those aloud until now. "I really hope he is," he added, with a small smile that made Marco realize he'd never seen Izou quite like this.

But it also brought him back to his own prophecy, now that he was once again reminded of it, and he couldn't shake the feeling of Ace being in it. At this point, it was impossible to mistake the sky of glass for anything other than the dome of the garden, and Marco had captured fire, in a way, only hours ago, from the darkness of war, if he was inclined to be this poetic. Those parts of the prophecy were unmistakable, really, now that he'd actually done all of that.

However, she also said that his heart lay under the sky of glass, and Marco could for a moment consider that it was because he saw that garden as a home. And home is where the heart is, as they say, but the oracle seemed to have made all their prophecies about love, in very morbid convoluted ways.

And well, he didn't love Ace just yet, but it was increasingly difficult to imagine that he wouldn't some day.

"Ask him for me," Marco said, changing the subject before Izou could notice something was amiss and felt inclined to ask. "If he's the one who's sending Ace food. And maybe how he even knows."

"I will," Izou said, still smiling like a besotted idiot, which was a surprisingly good look on him, before he stood up and made for the door. "I'll bring news from Benn as soon as they arrive," he added on his way out, before wishing Marco a good night and closing the door behind him.

* * *

Marco felt calmer after Izou left, the last remnants of worry completely gone. And yet he couldn't sleep, making it obvious to himself that he was, in fact, still worried, just lying to himself about it. It was more of a worry for the soldiers, though, and that the skirmish Marshall started wasn’t truly over, rather than Ace refusing to keep Churro safe here.

Still, he must have dozed off at some point, because he jolted awake as soon as he'd heard the first knock on the door. He lay there, slightly confused for a moment, before realizing that it was coming from the garden door instead of the door to his rooms and that meant it could have only been one person. And knowing it was Ace brought a smile to his face for the brief moment it took him to jump out of bed and make his way towards the door, only stopping to grab a sweater on the way.

Ace looked nervous, a bit more jittery than Marco was used to, when the door opened, but he seemed to calm down as soon as Marco greeted him.

"Good morning," Ace said, looking all kinds of tired, with dark circles around his eyes and a dull, almost non-existent shimmer to his freckles. It was probably the least rested Marco had seen him since they’d met.

"Is it actually morning?" Marco asked, noting the lack of actual sunlight around them.

"Almost," Ace said with a scoff and a roll of his eyes, but he looked amused. "You're awake anyway. Can you come with me?"

Marco was already stepping onto the stairs and starting to close the door behind him, before he even muttered a yes or Ace explained where exactly they were going. With anyone else, that would have been extremely foolish.

"You might want to take your shoes," Ace added hastily, but smiling like Marco had given something away with the way he followed without question.

He did grab his riding boots from where he'd left them by the door the night before, and put them on, knowing full well he looked absolutely ridiculous wearing them with his sleeping pants and a sweater. But he still hadn't asked where they were going or why he needed boots, given that he usually just walked barefoot in the grass.

Ace only grinned, as if he knew a secret, all smug and self satisfied, but Marco followed him upstairs and through the grass and the trees, behind the house and into a corner of the garden he couldn't remember seeing yet. The dragons were nowhere to be found, but Marco could hear them clearly, somewhere nearby, doing their weird chirping sounds like they tended to do in the mornings.

They sounded no different from the mornings before this one and it made him happy, knowing they didn't seem to show any animosity towards Churro.

"So where are we going?" Marco asked, finally, as they neared the edge of the garden, where the glass panes and the metal cage met the cliff.

"You've given me a gift, you know," Ace said, in lieu of an answer. Or perhaps he was answering, but Marco had no idea what to say to that just yet.

"I'm glad you found Churro and brought him here," he continued, sounding awfully sad for a moment, but it was gone from his voice in an instant. "You've given me a great gift, Marco, and I feel I owe you something in return."

"You don't owe me anything," Marco hurried to say, because in all honesty, he hadn't thought of Ace when he'd approached a muzzled dragon. He was just thinking of saving this creature that obviously didn't deserve to be treated the way he had been. Whether or not Ace would like him had been nothing but an afterthought, once it was all said and done.

"I don't really have much to give," Ace continued, as if Marco hadn't spoken at all, still with his back turned and walking towards the glass. "I do have this, though," he said, and finally turned around, smiling at Marco.

"It's a bit cold, but we don't have to stay long," he added as he cleared some ivy growing up the glass wall and revealed a door, which he unbolted and opened a moment later, letting the cool autumn air blow into the garden.

He held the door open, letting Marco walk out first and to step onto the surprisingly smooth surface of the cliff. Ace followed him silently, Marco could hear the deep breath he took once he was outside, but he couldn't make himself turn around to look because the sun was starting to rise and Marco realized finally that he was looking at the ocean.

This was a side of the cliff that remained unseen from the palace and the capitol, the ocean remaining nothing but a distant whisper of waves and seagulls, but Marco was standing on top of the smooth rock, overlooking the seemingly endless expanse of water.

The sun was casting a bright yellow glow across the waves as the sky lightened, going from a dark gray to a soft pink and Marco gasped because the wind was ruffling his hair and he could almost feel the spray of seawater on his face, even though they were far too high up for that to actually be possible.

He was breathless at the sight and the sensation of salt on the wind and the warmth of Ace's hand as he slipped it into Marco's.

Marco breathed deeply, trying to take all of it in, but he found himself overwhelmed. Standing atop that cliff felt like freedom. It felt like there was no weight of the crown to hold him down, like he could fly away if he wished it hard enough, but the warmth of Ace's hand was a tether keeping him grounded.

"Thank you," Marco said, eyes glued to the horizon, his voice almost a whisper on the wind, but Ace heard nonetheless. He squeezed Marco's hand a little, before resting his forehead on Marco's shoulder for a moment.

"Come on," he said with a small relieved sigh, "I have some tea for you. To warm up."

He moved, hand pulling at Marco a bit until he was ready to turn and walk back into the warmth and safety of the garden.

"I have a lot to tell you about Churro," Ace added with a laugh, "if you want to stay for breakfast and listen."

Marco only smiled as he followed Ace back inside, still chilled from the cold wind, everywhere except his hand that still held onto Ace.

"Of course," he said, catching Ace's eye as he glanced over his shoulder for a moment. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."


End file.
